I’ve always walked to the beat of a different drum. Come to think of it, I’ve spent an entire lifetime perfecting the art.
It’s tricky ya know.
There are a lot of walk-to-the-beat-of-everyone-elses-drum people out there. But not me.
I walk to the beat of my own.
I’m not exactly certain when this all came about either.
It seems that I started out rather normal.
(Seems normal enough to me).
I rather enjoyed being bathed in a bucket.
And didn’t you all crawl around at lightning speed with a towel on your head and a gleam in your eye…
or strike a pose in the middle of your living room from time to time?
Hmmmm, who me? I’m just standing here minding my own business. And by the way…I had absolutely nothing to do with anything mischievous at all.
I have always been somewhat gregarious.
A little goofy. And I have always loved a fabulous hat upon my head…
not to mention a gorgeous evening gown.
I’ve always taken great pride in the big sister role.
Just ask my little sister. She loved the attention.
I have always been somewhat of an entertainer, I’ll admit…
whether people were actually paying attention or not.
And I grew up l-o-v-i-n-g the idea of putting on my tutu and ballet slippers for anyone and everyone who was willing to watch me *ahem* perform. I guess that’s where the reputation of being the entertainer of the family all began. I never really quite understood what all of the hullabaloo was about. Why everyone would gather in the living room, assume their positions and wait grinning from ear to ear for the show to begin.
I thought that all of this was perfectly normal. Just like I thought eating a perfectly good cupcake (that happened to be covered in ANTS) after some sweet child had dropped it in the street walking home from a birthday party was perfectly normal. Or singing Debbie Boone’s “You light up my life” every-single-time I took a shower at the top of my lungs (for decades) was, well, normal…not to mention perfectly beautiful with all of that shower echo vibrato going on. I mean, everybody did do those things, right?
Well then I assume that you all danced in your tutus and ballet slippers to the ever popular “Chicken Fat” song? I thought so.
My mom called me this week and said, “honey, I don’t want a Mother’s Day gift this year. All I want is for you to jot down one favorite childhood memory. Can you do that for me?”
Hmmmmmmm, I don’t know?
Welllllllllllllllll, maybe just one.
And my mom loved me through it all…
She provided me with the most phenominal childhood memories that anyone could ever ask for…
How could I pick just one?
Thank you Mom for always gracefully guiding me to be the best “Wenderly” that I can be.
I’m sure it wasn’t easy.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I love you!
Wishing all of YOU wonderful mom’s out there a day full of love and lots and LOTS of laughter.
(even if it is at me, I don’t mind)