I'm Not Ready.

So, last night, I am sitting on the couch, with my feet in my foot spa, drinking a cup of tea, and the phone rings. I look at the call display, and see that is my aunt from Small Town. I stared at the phone, wondering if I should even bother answering. I was having a good day, and I figured a long distance call from someone who has never called me before, would never be a good thing. I mustered my courage, and answered anyways.

"Hello?"

"Abigail, it's Auntie. Now, I have some news, and it's not good news, but it's not that bad either. It just sucks. Please don't get upset, I already scared your uncle when I called him."

"Um, okay, what's up?"

"Your mom is in the hospital. She had a fall, and broke her right wrist, and had a reaction to the pain meds they gave her, and she needs to come to The City for surgery."

She continued to tell me the rest of the story, what had to be done, who I had to call, and what I had to do and expect. We chatted for awhile, then I hung up the phone and called the brothers to let them know what happened.

Now, my first instinct was to drive home. But, I stopped myself. I knew I could help by picking her up when she needed me to, and looking after her once she was here, and if she needs me, I can go and stay with her in Small Town for awhile until her arm is better.

As I was sorting out this mess in my head, I thought of a passage from an Erma Bombeck book I stole from my mom's book shelf about ten years ago. (Sorry, mom.) She is contemplating the transition of power between mother and daughter, and why and when she became the mother, and her mother became the child. She needs to take care of her mother, but they both rebel against it. She still wants to be a kid, and her mother is not ready to step down yet.

I remember the first time I witnessed this between my mom and her mother. We had to stop at Nana's house, on the way home, and mom sent me inside. When I got in the house, Nana looked stoned, and was smiling and laughing as she told me she had been throwing up all afternoon. She said she was fine, and didn't need anything and rushed me out the door. I ran to the car.

"Mom, there's something wrong with Nan. She's actin' funny." I will never forget the look of fear on my mom's face, or how calm and cool she was while dealing with the situation.

My own transition has been slowly evolving since my dad died. The very first time I ever felt like an adult, was the day we went to the funeral home, and planned the funeral. I got to have a say in the arrangements, what urn we would buy, etc. Mom asked me my opinion on things, and let me take hold of the reigns a bit, even though I wasn't really sure that I wanted to, deep down.

The transition started to speed up this past summer, when my mom found out she had Bueger's Disease. I never really worried about her before this. Even after my dad died, I knew that my mom was strong, and could look after herself, and although I wasn't as close as I wanted to be to her, she had a great support system of friends and family in Small Town, if she needed anything. Then, all of a sudden, I was taking her to appointment after appointment. It was me that was sitting in the hospital, annoying doctor's and nurses, waiting for results and tests and worrying about my mother, just as she had done when I was in the hospital. I started wishing that I could just be a kid again, and mom could just go back to being strong and healthy and looking after me. I realized, that if something bad ever happened, I would be put in her place, take on that position of power. It would be me that would look after her, or the boys, and all the other things in between. I was a bit angry with the world, and wanted my mom to stop aging, because she was just dragging me along with her, and I wasn't ready to grow up and worry about these things.

The truth is, I can handle anything that's thrown at me. I get that from my mom. I am strong and independent, just like she is, and a broken arm, isn't the end of the world, it just sucks. But today, I am feeling old, and just wish that we could go back twenty-five years, when our roles were more clear, and mom was the one who had to take care of my scrapes and bruises and wipe away my tears, and I could just go through life knowing that no matter what, I was being taken care of, by the strongest woman in the world.

Best Halloween Ever.

The celebration of Halloween is a little bit different for those who live out in the country. For me, it was anyways. It was rare that other kids came by to trick-or-treat. You had to drive to the 'neighbors', if you wanted candy from them. I'm guessing it was a big headache for the parents who had to dress their kids up, argue about whether or not they were going to put their snowsuit on over their costume, and then drive into town on the crappy gravel roads, in crappy weather, and wait for the children to run from house to house, begging for candy, before making the big trek back to the farm.

My mom was a trooper. Every year, she got us all dressed up, somehow came out on top in the "put your snowsuit on, it's twenty below!" argument, took some pictures, loaded us in the car, drove into town, and let us wander about begging.

It always snowed on Halloween. It snowed BIG. Not like nowadays, when we get a little skiff, and the temperature drops. I have many memories of trudging through snow up to my knees, (and one year, up to my waist, in my pioneer girl dress, when we went trick-or-treating out at the lake), in my costume, just to get to the door to sing a stupid song. For a kid who didn't even like candy, I put myself through a lot on this holiday.

I was thinking about this the other day, while decorating the house for the party, and my ol' memory bank reminded me of a Halloween Night, long ago.

I must have been in about grade three. Or maybe grade four or five. I don't even remember Film Star in this memory, so he must have just been a baby. I think that my dad was away working, as he was a good chunk of the time throughout my childhood. It was just mom and the kids. We came home from school, pumped to go out trick-or-treating, and excitedly telling mom about our day.

The weather was bad that night. Bad. Storming. There might have been something else going on too, that my young self wasn't aware of, or my adult self doesn't remember.

Mom had to break the news to us, that she couldn't take us to town to trick-or-treat. I was upset. What would I tell the kids at school the next day? That I just stayed home, while they went out and had fun and got candy?

Mom didn't want us to miss out. Mom didn't want us to have a boring, grumpy night at home. So, she made it fun.

I remember that I wanted to dress up as a punk rocker. GQ wanted to dress up too. All of a sudden, Mom's off-limits make-up bag was out. We gathered in the bathroom, and mom helped us put on our make-up. I got to wear green eye-shadow, and red lipstick. Mom helped give me the highest, punkiest hair in the world. We scoured the house for cool rock star clothes (thankfully, we had one heck of a Mr. Dress-Up-esque tickle-trunk!). I looked so cool. I loved it.

We spent the evening listening to music on the record player, making Halloween crafts, and eating popcorn and candy. Mom lined us up in the kitchen, and took pictures, like she did every year. We laughed, a lot. We accepted the fact that we had to stay home, and we just had fun together, doing what we could.

The next day at school, one of my most annoying classmates, grilled me about how much candy I had gotten, and bragged about how many bags of candy he had filled up. I told him I didn't go trick-or-treating. He teased me, and attempted to get everyone else to tease me too.

One of the other farm kids said that they didn't get to go out either. And then another farm kid piped in. And then another. We all compared stories, and bragged to the town kids about how much fun we had at home with our moms and dads, and how we got to eat as much candy as we wanted, and we didn't have to wear a snowsuit over our costumes, because we were inside all night. It was at that moment, that I realized how lucky I was.

So thanks Mom, for that night. And for all the other Halloween nights, of driving into town in heinous weather, and standing in the cold, just so I could collect enough candy to sell to the brothers. It was always much appreciated.