I first chose to do this song essentially for the first two lines, and when I actually looked up the lyrics was a little disappointed. But hey, I stuck with it.
I have known you since my birth. Not that I remember the first time meeting you, but you remember meeting me for the first time. The small little bundle in the yellow blanket with chubby fingers and a wrinkly forehead, even then a boob person.
But you know, I think that comes with the territory of you being my mom.
And because of that, I like to think I know you. I know your moods and looks, that you unplug that cable box during the week so I don't watch TV, that you like to eavesdrop in my phone calls, that you yell at me to take my pile of dirty clothes downstairs and put them in the washing machine, that you like to relax with a Mike's Hard Lemonade after a day at work, that you have been trying for years to grow a fruit producing apple tree. I know that you hate the idea of sex before college and that if you caught me with vodka in a water bottle or pot in my glove compartment you would kill me.
Which is why I hid such things in a grocery bag under the passenger seat, kept there with a net.
I did not expect you to clean out your car, and when you finished early to snag the keys from the dish by the garaged door, unlock my car, and start cleaning that. That's the last time I play video games with headphones on, I want to hear you hollering down the stairs you're taking a vacuum to my muddy mats.
But what I expected even less was you coming down to the basement, dragging me up the stairs and standing me in front of my battered Ford Escort, pot and vodka on the hood, and destroy it with laser beam eyes.
I mean, holy shit, how did you hide that from me for seventeen years? Does Dad know? Screw my melting hunk of a car, complete with backpack full of homework on the backseat, what if one day you glare at me and your eyes just turn silver and boom, I'm a pile of ashes on the floor?
What. The. Fuck.
I didn't really listen to your speech about drugs and alcohol, you blowing up my car was a pretty clear indication that you were a proud member of D.A.R.E and M.A.D.D and a whole bunch of other organizations. And holy shit yes I'm never bringing that stuff home again, hell, if the threat is a glare that can melt cars I'm not touching that stuff until I'm 21 and I'll stay a virgin till marriage.
Before I can ask questions, how long have you had laser beam eyes, where did you get that power from, why did you hide it (okay, I can understand that one) you turn around and walk back into the house. I can hear the click of the lock and know that you've forbidden me to enter until I think of some way to apologize for being a stupid teenager who disobeys his mom.
At first I thought of using my fake to get you those Mike's Hard Lemonades and credit Dad, but that probably wouldn't work. So instead I spend all the money in my wallet on half off Easter candy and hope the Peeps aren't stale. I also ask for a single sheet of paper from the printer behind the photo station at the supermarket and make a handmade 'I'm sorry' card, 1st grade style. Okay, 5th grade style because my handwriting improved drastically between 4th and 5th grade.
The walk to Wal-Mart had been long, and I really didn't want to do it with bags full of candy, so I called Dad and he came to pick me up on his way back home. And you know what? He knows about your car melting power. It's a good thing they first time you...did it....with Dad you were outside. Replacing a house is a lot more costly than replacing a junk car.
But really, you have laser beam eyes! Why?
Actually, I'm not sure I want to know. But I do know that the next time you say 'no' or 'wash your dirty laundry' I'm doing it.
So glad my mom doesn't have this power.