This Sunday is Mother's Day so we thought we'd ask our readers to anonymously submit stories of the horrible things they've done that their moms have endured. Hopefully these confessions will remind you to send your mom a card and/or give her a call, because chances are she's put up with a lot of your crap.
What's Your Damage?
When I was six or seven I got in a fight with my mom during a car ride home (probably I was mad because she wouldn't take me to McDonald's for the fourth time that week) and it reached its peak just as we were getting into our garage. I thought it would be appropriate to sneak attack push the garage door down button while the car was halfway pulled in, crushing the top of the car and causing severe structural damage to the frame. I don't know what the exact dollar amount was but it was unquestionably more than the trip to McDonald's.
I remember planning this out, in detail, as a four-year-old. As soon as my baby brother started crying in the other room, I capitalized on my mom's distraction by scrambling up onto the bathroom counter and standing on my tiptoes to reach her cherry Chapstick on the top shelf. I popped off the top, screwed a goodly amount up to the top, and bit off a sizable chunk. Then I put the top back on, scurried down, and went back to my toys. She didn't believe me when I said I had no idea how it happened. I think I owe her a thank you. And probably some Chapstick.
I got it from my mama
When I was little (like under 10) and people told me some variation of "you look so much like your mom!" I would cry. I hated it. I guess I didn't think she was very pretty (she is and was beautiful). Sorry Mom!
Thank you Mom for your continuous love, even when I came home hours past curfew obliterated and threw up red/pink (something) all over your white carpet. It was so kind of you to put my Vitamin Water back in the refrigerator for me. Thank you for forgiving me when you drank it the next morning for breakfast, only to find out it was vodka.
See Ya Never
I accidentally booked my flight to move out of the country on her birthday. Happy birthday Mom...
On the last day of fifth grade, I tossed my backpack into the hall closet, forgetting to take out the piece of pizza I didn't eat from my lunchbox that day. It stayed there all summer, quietly growing the thickest, bluest mold the world has ever known until the first day of sixth grade. When my mom went to pack my lunch, it was like I had punched her in the face with the sick smell of pizza-neglect. I still get phantom whiffs of it to this day.
Eye for an Eye
I received my karate yellow belt when I was 11. I was pretty excited about it, and felt inclined to show her my new prowess and accidentally kicked her really hard in the boob. She cried, and then kicked the crap out of me (and by that I mean tickled the crap out of me).
Scene: I'm four, "Ferocious Four" to hear my mother tell it, and I'm wholly convinced I'm a Disney princess. My mother asks "Sweetheart, will you clean your room please? You need to put your toys away." I stomp my foot, outraged. My hands fly to my hips as I demand of her, "Who do you think I am, Cinderella?"
Thanks, Mom, for still loving me – even after I moved 2,000 miles away to San Francisco and left you in the Midwest with Dad.
You Must Be Bananas
When I was a toddler I refused to eat everything... except for bananas. So my mom used to mash lots of undoubtedly tasty, savory foods with banana. My mom's friends report that this turned an entire community of people against bananas for many years. I still love them.