Wednesday, April 1, 2009


The first words I uttered this morning.

My mom stood in front of me smiling so big that it sent shivers down my spine. The creepy kind, not the she is so happy to see me kind. But she was happy. And I guess that was why it was creepy. She was just SO incredibly happy. And it made me feel bad. I attempted to curl back up in the pile of blankets I had collected for myself earlier and tried to find the one comfortable spot on that forsaken couch that didn't make my back ache. And I tried to smile. I tried to show her the appreciation I felt towards her for not changing her locks and thus enabling my entrance into her home.

The questions began.

"Are you hungry? Do you want breakfast? Is it too bright in here? Do you want to watch TV? Is it too loud? Are you going to stay for awhile? What are you doing today? Am I talking to much? Are you tired? Why are you here? Want me to go away? Can you move your feet? Is it ok if I sit down? I sat down, is it ok I sat down? Does this bother you? Are you cold? Can you share a blanket? You're warm? What time did you get here?" The questions went on forever it seemed.

I shot her the look of I love you but I would really enjoy some more sleep. I don't think she understood. Sitting on top of my gangly legs, she just beamed at me. It was odd. I didn't think she would be happy to see me on her couch when she got up in the morning. In fact, I didn't think she would be happy at all. I had prepared myself to be yelled at. I had prepared myself to wake up and bolt for the door in the morning to get out of the way of the angry rampage that would presumbaly be coming my way. But that was not the case.

I mean the night before I was driving my friends back to their homes and making my decision. Risk getting pulled over in HB or drive to my mom's house which was ten minutes away. I went to my mom's (obviously). BUT, I was scared my mom was going to be awake and I was scared that she would
A) smell any form of alcohol on me (she has an AMAZINGLY good nose)
B) Question why I was out so "late"- it was 12:30

So I had sat/slept in my car for an hour and half outside of her house before I built my courage to go inside. Finally I got out and walked to the door, unlocked all three locks, put my bag down, and scurried around trying to find a sticky note to write her a message.

"Dear Mom, I am sleeping on your couch. Please do not kill me. LOVE, CHRISTINA"

I stuck it to her bedroom door and then I stared at her for awhile. She had falled asleep with her bedroom lights on while reading a book, which was now sliding down the side of her bed. It was cute. She had yelled at me my whole childhood for doing just that. Reading too late at night and falling asleep with all my lights on. And here she was. It made me want to laugh. But I didn't, because I didn't want to be killed. The fear was still pulsing through my body.

I left her room and went to the couch where I unfolded all the blankets and curled up as tight as possible. 2:30 AM. That means I can wake up at the crack of dawn and make a run for it, or wait it out and see what happens. Obviously I didn't wake up in time to make a run for it because I awoke to her freakishly happy smile.

So this morning, there I was, a horrible daughter for only being at her house because I had been drinking and was tired and didn't want to drive back to my HB home that was another twenty minutes away. And my mom was HAPPY. So thrilled. So excited. I felt so guilty.

We ended up watching the Today show and just sitting next to each other for about an hour, playing on the internet, and just...chillin. I forget how much I love my mom. I feel bad that I don't call her everyday, or every couple of days or even every week. So, I guess this kind of makes me think
1) Call my my mom more
2)Drop by unexpectedly at her house to "surprise" her
3)Be a better daughter.

She had school this morning, so before she left she came over and asked why I was at the house. I told her the short version. "I hung out with friends and was really tired and didn't want to drive back to Dad's. So I came here."

Then she asked what time I came back at. Mind you, this is the woman who had given me a bedtime while I was living in her home. It was "be back inside by 10pm or die a slow and painful death." I looked down at the carpet then back at her and said I got there at 12:30. Which I did.

She accepted that and went about her way.

That sort of made me sad. She used to call me every night when I was out and ask where I was. It's kind of weird thinking about that because I don't remember where I was, but I wouldn't come home until 2 in the morning. Sometimes later. Now I live at my dad's and it was a rude awakening. He doesn't even know if I'm home or not. Which is nice, but scary. I mean, what happens if something happens to me?!

I went from having my mom's strict rule book and trying to fight them off constantly, to my dad's do what you may philosophy and trying to make rules for myself to live by.

Life is weird.
I love my mom.
I love my dad.
I love my life.

Growing up is fun.

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