On this Motherâ€™s Day, I want to honor and thank my â€œMaâ€ for raising me as she did.
Yes, my Dad also had a hand in our upbringing, but Mom was the strongest overall influence on my life. Whether the job she did was good or bad is irrelevant as far as Iâ€™m concerned. What matters most is that I am who I am today, because of her, and Iâ€™m OK with it.
Even though my brothers and I may now possibly carry untold amounts of dysfunctional baggage from growing up in our House of Horrors, I am nevertheless grateful that it was never so bad that we couldnâ€™t survive it and still make somewhat decent lives for ourselves. We all managed, for the most part, to stay clear of jails, skid row, asylums and deportations, so as they say, that canâ€™t be all bad.
So Mom, as your oldest son, these are my thanks to you, for all the special things you do. Happy Motherâ€™s Day.
THANK YOU, MOM, FOR ALL THESE SPECIAL MOMENTS, FROM MY CHILDHOOD THROUGH MY TEEN YEARS:
- Never sparing â€œThe Chanclaâ€
- For the daily ritual of slathering my face with Pondâ€™s Cream and my hair with â€œTres Floresâ€.
- For becoming completely unreachable whenever your â€œNovelasâ€ were on.
- Going to my school Parent/Teacher Conferences and nodding your head affirmatively to everything my teachers said to you even though you didnâ€™t understand a damned thing they were saying in English. And even though they had said I was a good student, once we got home, you still gave me my Nalgadas, Chanclazos, & Whoopings –just in case.
- Telling all of your relatives and acquaintances, and even strangers on the streets, about all my personal problems. Iâ€™m sure that Lady you met at JonSonâ€™s Market was very sympathetic when you informed her that you had so much trouble buying me pants that I could fit into.
- Throwing away my entire toy collection, which has now cost me thousands of dollars to replace from Ebay.
- Pounding on my bedroom door at night during my teenage make-outs sessions, and loudly informing that â€œLittle Putaâ€ I had in there, that this house was not a â€œPinchi Motel!â€
- Hiding my car keys, for the Hell of it.
- Answering the phone with: â€œNO ESTA!â€ whenever any chicks called for me.
- Knowing precisely at what time I got home last night, and every night. â€œLlegaste a las 3:54:32 am, Pacific Standard Time, Cabron!â€
- Spying out the back window for the entire duration of any backyard house parties I threw, then giving me a complete play-by-play the next morning. You always claimed that you couldnâ€™t get any sleep at all. Of course not, because you were SPYING OUT THE WINDOW ALL NIGHT!Â My Dad would then add the obligatory, â€œThe authorities will come take our house away because of all the DROGADICTOS you had here last night!â€
- Insisting that no phone call should have to last anymore than 30 seconds.
- Filling my teen life with every miserable restriction possible, then letting my younger brothers completely get away with murder when they became teenagers.