My Crazy Mom

My mom is part lunatic, part saint.


She had 4 children in 4 years….I am pretty sure that should have qualified her for institutionalization. Not only that, but as she and my dad closed in on 40 they decided they wanted more children: enter me and JT.

Even before she had children she was a little crazy. Seriously, who moves to the middle of nowhere into a 4 room house with loose windows, no facilities, and says “hey let’s have a baby!”? She must have really loved my dad. She would go on to have the others while my dad worked away from home and was single-handedly building their home. Crazy.

She worked third-shift in a hospital lab when I was little. She was the one who drew blood from drunk-drivers; she was the one to get down on the floor to draw because the police had to hold the guy down. All the third-shift cops knew my mom. She put up with endless teasing from JT and me about how she worked in “lab” and could she bring home some “samples.” She in turn would lecture us on the dangers of dirty needles. She put up with JT and I's pranks, like the Christmas ants, and the “Mom! The cows are out!” So we, her children, also have to take responsibility for her craziness.

She cheerfully puts up with my dad bringing home strays. He brings home stray animals, stray machinery, and even stray people. My mom has been chased by geese, stranded in vehicles, and met some very interesting people. She cheerfully puts up with all the teasing, like the time we all got Mad-Turkey disease at Thanksgiving…the teasing was brutal.

She loves us…even though we make mistakes and don’t visit as often as we should. She loves us, even though we don’t call and tell her the same. Unconditional love is a little crazy after all.

All the things that make her crazy also make her awesome. I hope one day my kids will think I’m crazy.