Nice, Mom, Turn the Hose on Me!

People have asked me where I learned my sick and twisted sense of humor. The simple answer is my mom. She has the uncanny ability to pull off the smart-ass one liner with a straight face. Better yet, she has such a wonderfully innocent looking face, that makes it unbelievable that she could possibly be up to no good.

 

Mom has a special way of motivating people. I’ve seen it in every aspect of her life. Even well into my adult life, she has always had a special knack for getting her point across in a way that makes me think it was my idea to change my mind. This was certainly frustrating as a teen, but I’ve learned to appreciate it lately.

 

Back in 2003 when I had my colon removed, I fell into a bit of depression. I hadn’t expected I’d have such a strong reaction to getting rid of an organ that was trying to kill me. Embarrassed by the temporary ostomy bag, I didn’t want to leave the house. My unspoken plan was to stay hidden in the house until my second procedure was done to take away the bag. It seemed reasonable to me!  I was so afraid the thing would leak or break in public, that I could think of no better solution.

 

Mom graciously agreed to stay at my house to help me recover from that brutal surgery. She kept the girls busy by taking them to the library, getting them to and from school, and even cleaning their room. Every couple of hours, she’d ask me if I wanted to go somewhere. She offered to take us out to dinner, and I said no. She offered to wheel me in a chair through the mall for a change of scenery. I said no. You get the point; I had no intention of leaving the house unless it was to get to a doctor’s appointment. To me, it made perfect sense. Why should I leave? I had everything I needed right there at home.

 

Well, almost…

 

The girls and I lived in a 2 bedroom townhouse. The bedrooms and a full bathroom were upstairs, and the downstairs had a living room, kitchen, and half-bath. Since I couldn’t get upstairs, I was camping out in the living-room-turned-bedroom. The one thing missing was a shower. I had no way to bathe other than sponge baths until I could make it up the stairs.

 

Now most people could deal with just a sponge bath while recovering. I wasn’t one of those people. My exceptionally thick and curly hair reached the middle of my back. Even with all of the doors closed, the 100+ degree Sacramento heat made it impossible to keep the room cool. On top of that, I had a pretty persistent fever. My hair was a matted mess! Short of shaving my head, I had to find a way to wash my hair on a regular basis.

 

We tried washing it in the kitchen sink, but I just couldn’t bend enough to get my head under the faucet. Mom saw this as an opportunity to get me out the door:

 

• MOM: How about this – I’ll take you to Supercuts to get your hair washed every other day.
• ME: Thanks, but I don’t think so. I can’t do that.
• MOM: Why not.
• ME: I can’t

 

Then I’d start to cry. I did a lot of crying that year.

 

Every day, she tried to talk me into going to Supercuts. Every day I would decline (and cry). It finally hit a breaking point. My hair was gross and itchy, and I knew we had to do something. Finally, she did what mom’s do. She gave me a choice:

 

• MOM: Okay, I know you don’t want to go, but we HAVE to do something with your hair! Either I take you to Supercuts, or I have to wash it with the garden hose.
• ME: (Thinking I’d do anything to stay secluded) Fine. Let’s use the hose.

 

Now you’d think that the cool water from a water hose would feel pretty good when it was 106 degrees outside. Well, it didn’t with a fever! I sat in a lawn chair that reclined slightly. Mom grabbed the hose and started spraying my head. I shook and swore like a sailor. She couldn’t help herself – she started laughing at the tantrum-like fit I started to throw. The more I protested, the more she’d giggle while shampooing my head and rinsing it with that damn hose! Eventually, I was laughing right along with her.  Of course my laughter was peppered with a little more colorful language.

 

Even though I was cold, I had to admit it was nice to get the sweaty grime off of my head. That said, the next time my head got grimy, I gratefully got into the car and went to Supercuts. Point for you, mom!

 

To this day, she threatens to turn the hose on me if I get stuck in that state of self-pity.