Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

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You sometimes get exactly what you ask for.

When I was really little (around 1) my 3 older sisters informed my mother in no uncertain terms that they did not want rules anymore. They were tired of all the rules and it wasn't acceptable. My mother decided that if that was what they wanted then fine. NO rules.

My sisters had a great day doing whatever they wanted without being told what to do in any fashion. That night, as they started to get hungry, they came into the kitchen to see what was for dinner. But no one was there and dinner was not being cooked. Upon searching the other rooms they found my mother watching TV and asked her what was for dinner. She said, "I don't know. What are you making?". The girls were flabbergasted. This was their MOTHER. She HAD to make them dinner! Mom pointed out to them that they didn't want any rules so there weren't any. But if there were no rules for the girls then there weren't any for mom either and she didn't have to make them dinner. They were told to fend for themselves. After 2 days my sisters agreed that perhaps a *few* rules were ok.

Foolproof way to make a kid smile for the camera

Have you tried saying "Cheese" and it doesn't work? They stare at you grumpily or give you that fake smile that looks like a grimace? Let me share with you a trick I learned from my mother. Tell them to NOT smile. Really.



It goes something like this (speak like you are serious but be smiling a little yourself):

Non-smiling child
"DON'T you smile!"
The child looks surprised
"I mean it!"
Small smile starts
"I see that! Wipe that smile off your face RIGHT NOW!!"
Big open grins and belly laughs
Keep talking as long as you are taking pictures, with variations on the theme. "Don't you dare" does wonders, too.





Since daddy has been doing a lot of business in Seattle he needed to demonstrate how far it is from Reno to Seattle.

Always trouble when those two are together...

I've known "Mackey" for as long as I can remember. She has always been my mother's best friend and my other mother. She never had her own children and the joke is that she spent a couple months living with us while my mother was in another state for training and that after that she didn't want kids anymore. Well, it was mostly a joke.

It was not safe to let her and my mother go anywhere without supervision as they always got into some kind of trouble, some of which it's probably not safe to mention even here. ;-) Once they went out to buy a pack of cigarettes and didn't come home until several hours later after arresting the store owner for selling liquor to minors (they were both law enforcement).

When I was around age 10ish my mother decided that she wanted to build a garden with a rock wall. To do this she needed a lot of flat and wide rocks and she knew just which mountain to get them on. So she loaded up my little sister and I into the back of the Ford Ranger pickup truck (the bed, not back of the cab) and she and Mackey jumped into the front and off we went. At that time of year it was still snowing up there and the snow was a couple feet high in some places. She drove to the top of this mountain and turned around the truck. Then my little sister and I got out and put down the tailgate. She drove down the mountain at about 3-5 miles per hour as Lee and I ran behind grabbing snowy rocks (with our bare, unmittened hands) and tossing them into the back of the truck. Our hands were freezing and red but we did this for miles.

Eventually deciding that a ton of rock was enough (in a half-ton pickup, mind you) she allowed us to get back into the bed of the truck to ride back down the mountain. We were now sitting on a large pile of cold wet rocks with no heater. So we begged. We asked mom and Mackey to let us sit up front but the seat was only meant for 3 and so they said no. But we kept pounding on the window at regular intervals and asking again. Eventually we wore them down and they allowed us to get in the front.

We started down the mountain again and Lee and I started warming up. Then I noticed something funny on the hood. There was an orange spot on the hood of our green truck. And it was growing. I asked my mother why the hood was turning orange and she whipped the truck off the road and hit the brakes so fast I was wishing we'd had a fourth seat belt. She commanded us to immediately get out of the truck and run to the tree line as apparently the brakes were now on fire.

Mom and Mackey knew not to open the hood as they would only be feeding the fire a better supply of oxygen. But they had coffee cups and they threw the coffee up under the wheel well to try and douse the flames. Up in the trees Lee and I found a couple of discarded 7-11 cups and we ran down to use them to scoop up puddle water to help with the flames. We managed to put out the fire but now we were stranded on a snowy mountain, miles from help and behind the forest service gates, with a broken truck. And it was freezing and getting later in the afternoon.

Luckily a man came by on his bicycle. What he was doing up there I'll never know. My mother tried to yell to get his attention as he went right on by. Then she changed to yelling some very colorful words... As he got a few hundred feet past us he turned around and looked back. Then my mother recognized him as someone she had arrested a few months back (not sure what for). He hadn't responded because he's deaf and hadn't heard her yelling. He came back and we managed to communicate that we needed help and he should go to the forest service station for help.

Well, the station was closed (being a weekend) but I guess he managed to get a hold of someone who tried to call out the ranger on duty. Unfortunately, that was my mother who, of course, couldn't be reached. So they called the sheriff, who was my step-father. He had started to worry a couple hours ago when we hadn't returned on time like we were supposed to. Now he got a call about two women and a couple of children stranded on a mountain with a truck that had caught fire.

When he arrived the expressions he went through were completely priceless. At first he was all business. His face said "I'm the sheriff and I'm in charge here". Then he saw us. His face turned to immediate worry as he realized it was us and wanted to make sure everyone was okay. Then he saw that we were okay and his face turned to rage with an exclamation of "What the hell did you do to my truck!?!".

It turned out later that the brake pads for that year of Ranger pickup could be put in backwards and the shop had done just that. My mother swears that this is the reason that the truck caught on fire and not because she was driving down a mountain while carrying a ton of rock in a half-ton pickup and riding the brakes. I'll let you decide. Either way, we refused to help in any of her later rock wall projects.

Secret 30: I am my mother

Yup. It's true. I am stubborn, willful, a smart-ass and independent (sometimes too much). Oh, I am some good things too and I get those from mom also. I think the biggest ways in which I am actually different from her are really more about the decades in which we were raised than who we actually are.

My ex once told me that, despite the cliche, he had never met ANYONE who was so like their mother as I am. At the time he meant that as a good thing so I think it still is... I choose to take it as a compliment anyway... When I was in elementary school we were asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and I said "My mother".

I even look like her a lot. Growing up I used to stare at this picture I had of mom in a wedding dress when she was very young (high school age) and I would cover up her hair and be amazed how much that picture looked like me.

It wasn't always a good thing though, being like mom. Sometimes the most similar people are the ones who get along the least... When I was in high school we would get into some epic screaming fights (a few times on the front lawn so the neighbors could have a show) and she would threaten that "You're going to live with your father!" at which point she would tell my younger sister to pack my stuff. But, it never actually happened, and things would calm down again (until next time).

Remember that story about getting suspended? Well, I learned that attitude from her. And learning to be a smart-ass, well, don't forget that she's the one who had me arrested. And the things that used to come out of her mouth while she was in uniform...

Once she pulled a woman over for speeding and the woman would not SHUT UP. The lady kept going on and on and ON that "I wasn't going that fast and you're only pulling me over because you have to fill your quota". Mom patiently explained that they didn't have quotas and "could I have your license please?" And the lady would go on "It's not fair! You're just trying to fill your quota!" and finally my mother said "You're right! If I write three more tickets I get a toaster oven!". Well, of course this went to traffic court later, and the woman told the judge "And she said that if she wrote three more tickets she got a microwave!" The judge looked at mom and said "Officer, did you say that to this woman?" to which my mother replied "No, Sir. I said I was getting a toaster oven!"

My mother also told me that respect was not a right given, it was a privilege earned. She once pulled over an actress who was in town filming. The actress said "Do you KNOW who I AM?" and mom, looking at her license, said "Well it says here you're Xxxx Xxxx". And then she gave her the ticket. (I'm not using the name because I'm not sure that officers are really supposed to talk about cases outside of court and I wouldn't want anyone to get sued.)

Thanks to mom I am a strange breed of hippy/redneck/yuppy, blue/white collar, do-it-myself female. And so concludes the 30 Secrets.



This photo was taken by a family member, probably my dad or my sister Litte-Big, but I'm not sure which.

Secret 29: I'm stubborn in the extreme sometimes

Okay, so stubborn is a little obvious and there's more to it than that. How have I never mentioned this story? I was sure that I had and yet here we are and no scouring of my blog has turned up a mention of it... Strange.

Here's another high school memory. I was in the 10th grade, making me about 16 at the time. It was early in the morning, before school had started up, and I was sitting in a hallway with friends. I had taken my shoes off (because I seriously hate to wear shoes if I can avoid it) and one of the guys, Woody, wanted to be funny and took my shoes. He made me chase him to get them back and I was furious. I had to run through wet grass in my socks and I wouldn't have time to change them so I was going to have wet feet all day. AND he wouldn't apologize.

So I took his glasses.

Yes, perhaps a childish thing to do (I was only 16) but I did it nonetheless. I told him that I would give him back his glasses when I received an apology. And then the bell rang and I went to class.

Shockingly, I was called out of class to the principals office. He asked if I had the glasses with me to which I pointed out that the glasses would be returned, as I had already promised, when I received an apology. Rather than reply to that he asked if they were in my backpack to which I pointed out that he did not have the legal right to touch my backpack without a police officer present and hands off. He threatened to call my mother and I told him to go ahead. So he did. My mother arrived and he told her that I had stolen some kid's glasses. I told her the rest of the story that he left out. So she asked, in clarification, if the basic story was that he took my shoes and got my socks all wet and refused to apologize so I took the glasses and said I would give them back when I got an apology? I agreed that this was the case. She looked at the principal and asked if Woody had apologized yet? The principal sputtered a little and disagreed that it was necessary. Mom said that she saw a very simple solution here where Woody would apologize and I would give him his glasses. Needless to say, I got the apology and he got his glasses. And I went back to class.

Sitting in second period, Biology, I was distracted. This whole thing had kind of pissed me off and I felt it was rather unfair. I hadn't really been asking for much. While I was sitting there and feeling somewhat sorry for myself I was playing around with a paper clip, twisting it into various shapes. Eventually it ended up being wrapped around the metal piece at the top of my pencil that holds the eraser, with the two ends sticking forward. I looked at this, and then at the plug that sits on top of the desks in the science rooms and thought "I wonder what would happen? Does electricity move through wood?". And without really thinking much more about it I stuck the thing into the socket. I had half expected the light show but what I hadn't anticipated was the loud bang. The teacher was a bit upset but, well, she overreacted I thought... I went and sat in the principals office again.

And then I went to my third period class, P.E. (Physical Education). Man, I hated that class. So we were sent outside to run a mile (4 laps around the track) like we did everyday. Now having had a REALLY bad morning so far I just wasn't into it and was already a little tired. So I walked the mile. Well, I started to, until one of the teachers came over to yell at me during the third lap. By this point I'd had enough yelling for the day and didn't listen to her. She followed me and kept screaming. So I decided "screw this" and walked inside and picked up a badminton racket to start the next activity. She came in too and now started yelling at me that the TA (teacher's assistant, a senior) had told her how I was mouthing off and said I was going to "kick her ass". Um, what!?! I had never, and I mean NEVER, said anything even remotely like that about any teacher, much less to a TA. But she wouldn't listen. So I decided to ask the TA why he would say something like that? What on earth had I done to piss him off? At this point the other teacher, a very large man, who I think was also the football coach, got involved. For no reason that I could discern he refused to let me question the TA and also started to yell at me. At which point I threw the badminton racket on the floor and told him, in no uncertain terms, exactly what he could do with it. Then I turned around and walked to the principals office (cause why not? I'd already been there twice today and I think we were starting to become friends...).

After I explained what had happened the principal said that I had no right to say or do what I had. That I should respect the teacher for no other reason than he was my teacher. Period. I told him that my mother had taught me that "respect is not a right given, it's a privilege earned" and I was under no obligation whatsoever to show respect to someone who was incapable of respecting me. My mother was called again. Around then the teacher came in and I had calmed down a little. I said, very calmly, that I was ready to discuss this as an adult. His response? He said that there was nothing to discuss, he was right, and that's it, no discussion. And he walked out of the principals office and slammed the door. I just looked at the principal like, see what I mean? My mother then arrived and told the principal that, while she didn't necessarily agree with what I had said, she would defend to the ground my right to say it. I loved her for that. She was the only person who had been on my side all day, really. It goes without saying that I was suspended at that point for a few days. When I came back I was put into the "other" P.E. class which was actually the same one only the female teacher was officially my teacher instead of the guy (the classes were combined so it didn't really change anything). The old teacher flunked me and the new one gave me a C so I got a D in the class, the only D I ever received.

Now I've grown up and had the chance for a little perspective, I suppose. I'm still not sorry I took the glasses. I'm a *little* sorry about the fireworks, though it was actually (mostly) an accident. I'm not even that tiny bit sorry about what I said to the teacher, though. He was an ass and if it had been a job I would have quit. If I saw him today, I think I might say it again just for spite. Okay, so maybe some things never change.

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Before they do the time, make SURE they did the crime.

So I mentioned in the first Rules from Mom that sometimes she had those moments where it was clear she wasn't perfect, moments where I learned what not to do. A clear point of this is the moment of the chocolate chips.

We loved chocolate chips. And we stole the bags from the pantry ALL the time. But we lived in the sticks so hiding the bags was problematic. If you put the bags in the trash then mom will surely find them and you're busted. But if you hide them anywhere in the house then you are equally screwed. So my oldest sisters, then around 10 and 11 years old, got creative. They hid the bag under the mattress of the next sister, middle-middle (who was about 5). Then if it was found, THEY weren't going to be in trouble! Brilliant, yes? Um...

Not long after this my mother was looking for something that had gone missing. It was more serious and completely unrelated to the chocolate chips so let's just say that it was 2am and she was in a VERY bad mood. And she was tossing bedrooms, ALL of them. She came to middle-middle's room and lifted the mattress and there was the chocolate chip bag. It was obvious, in a 2am haze, that of course she had done the crime and therefore must bear the punishment.

So the next day, still angry, my mother sat down middle-middle with a bowl filled with 2 pounds of chocolate chips and a trash can. If she wanted chocolate chips, she was going to get chocolate chips. And she's not getting up till it's done (hence the trash can)... It didn't come out until that very first Confession Christmas what had really happened, more than 20 years after the incident. Middle-middle still doesn't like chocolate chip cookies to this day, more than 30 years later.

Now that I have my own kids, before I punish them, I make sure that they're guilty. Circumstantial isn't enough.

Other lessons learned

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Save the best for last.

With 6 children in the house a bag of miniature candy bars didn't last long while I was growing up. One day, maybe two day at the outside. My parents would remember they'd bought them just in time to not get any. So my mother got a little sneaky. Knowing that we didn't like the dark chocolate she would start with the others. Goodbars, Krackles, and plain Hersheys first. This way she got to enjoy candy with us and still have some left over to enjoy leisurely at the end: guaranteed untouched Special Darks. Unfortunately this doesn't work for me as my little girly loves Special Dark the best but I'll never forget the lesson to savor everything for as long as you can.



Other gems from my childhood.

Secret 4: Confession Christmas

When I was a sophomore in high school one of my older sisters got brave and told mom the truth about something that happened a long time ago. After that it all started spilling out and all of us were confessing things my mother never knew about (at least where the statute of limitations had passed, anyway, which seems to be roughly 10 years). My mother sat stunned, finally laughed, and said "I see. Okay, as long as we're telling the truth here... what happened to my gold watch with the marquee diamonds in it?" It got very quiet and then my oldest sister, Big-Big, said "oh, yeah... okay, well, [Little-Big] and I were playing pirates... and, uh, we needed a buried treasure...". It turns out that when they were little they had buried the watch in the sand box out back (the sand box on a hill) and that winter the bottom board broke off and the sand box was washed away in the storms. The watch was never found and is still somewhere on the butte despite attempts with a metal detector to locate it.

Ever since that year, whenever we get together at Christmas, we tell mom a few more things. Recently it came out what ACTUALLY caused that hole in my blanket when I was in high school. I was a sophomore and my friends and I had gone to the beach near our house for a bonfire. I got in trouble for smoking because of the small hole in my blanket that I had taken with me and I tried to tell mom that someone else was smoking (since I don't smoke). She didn't believe me and I got in trouble. However, I decided the punishment might be worse for the truth and let it go.

The truth is that this was shortly after the 4th of July. We had a ton of fireworks left over and had been setting them off for hours. We got bored with that and someone, I couldn't say who exactly, had the brilliant idea to throw everything that was left into the bonfire. I had my blanket wrapped around me and moved away, quickly, as flames started shooting out in every direction. Among the stuff thrown in there were bottle rockets that had become random missles and I was hit in the back, burning a hole in my blanket. There might also have been alcohol at that beach but who can be sure? I will say that IF there was, then not having any mixers except Mountain Dew would have been punishment enough for that part of it (seriously have you ever mixed MD with Jim Beam? Shudder...).

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Sometimes as a parent you'll have to elaborate on Because I said so.

As children we protested the obvious unfairness of our parents. How come they always got to make the decisions? Why don't I get a choice? I should have a choice.

My mother very calmly looked at me during one of these tirades when I was about middle school age and said "Do you see that fence?". She pointed out to the road and the fence that surrounded our property.

"Yes, I see it" I replied. "But you're not listening to me!"

"Well", she told me, "outside that fence is the United States of America. Out there it's a democracy and as soon as you move outside that fence you can make whatever decisions you want. Inside this fence is a dictatorship and I'm the dictator. As long as you live inside this fence, I make the rules!"

My mother was right (but I'll never admit I said it). As much as I always swore I'd never say it, I've learned that sometimes "because I said so" is the only answer that makes kids stop asking. Sigh...

Other lessons

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

This woman and I go way back. A little more than 30 years. This is my mother. Growing up I had some serious hero worship going on here. Not because she was perfect (she's not) but because even though she wasn't she *tried*. My parents divorced when I was 7 and I was mostly raised by mom, mostly as a single mom, so you can imagine that things were a little fly by the seat of our pants at times. But we always landed on our feet. She taught me to adapt. She taught me to stand back up. She taught me to try again and go on.

Many of the lessons my mother taught me I didn't even realize I'd learned until I had my own kids. Some of them were lessons in what not to do (that part about not being perfect, remember?). But all of them were valuable. So I will share these morsels of life with the rest of you. Every now and then I'll add a lesson or two from The Survival Guide as I learned it.

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Always mark the easter eggs. That way you know when the kids find one of LAST years eggs that was missed the first time around.

I was so proud of all of my eggs and I was very angry that my mother took the pretty blue one away that I found on the trailer hitch. Even though she really saved me from something bad I found it incredibly unfair.

Style is relative. Are you happy? Then that's what matters and don't let anyone tell you different. Of course, you may have to develop a thick skin to be happy. This applies to more than clothes but the lesson started there.

When in second grade I decided to dress myself. I had a plaid shirt, a pink fluffy skirt with white polka dots, snow boots, etc. I was Stylin'! So I went out to the kitchen where mom and Mackey (my mom's best friend, also known as Other Mother) were having their morning coffee. I said "How do I look?" And without missing a beat my mother replied "Fine. If you're going to a blind school." Thanks mom. Thanks for that...

Don't wake up Middle-Middle. She'll punch you in her sleep. So will Big-Big for that matter. And me too... You know what? Don't wake up any female in our family prematurely unless you are bleeding or dying... Otherwise you will be if you know what I mean. In fact, that was pretty much my mom's rule verbatim. I recall voluntarily waking my mother up twice. After being bitten by a bat in second grade and after being hit by a car in the tenth. In both cases the first words out of my mouth were "Mom, I'm bleeding..." It had to be that extreme because nobody likes to wake dragons.