Change was always the underlying theme in our fast-paced lives. One minute Mom was just a typical teenager and the next she was a mother. At just 16 years old she welcomed me into the world. Her age definitely changed up our dynamic. It made us more like sisters or friends.
Kindergarten homework was our time. I looked forward to sitting at that child-size table with her every afternoon. Mom didn’t send me away to the other room to do my homework alone; she would pull up the miniature chair and squeeze herself right there with me in the living room. We spent our afternoons with crayons and glue sticks. Every single day my teacher would send home a puzzle to color and cut apart, then glue to construction paper. Mom knew how frustrated I got with the glue stick. I would place all the pieces where they go, and Mom would flip them over and glue it for me. Maybe we cheated just a little.
She had no clue what she was doing, but I can honestly say I never remember thinking bad of her as a mother. She was fun. We would get up late and sneak ice cream while Granny was asleep and watch creepy television shows together. Tales From the Crypt was our favorite. Even though Granny fussed that I shouldn’t watch that. It wasn’t that scary, I needed an excuse to crawl in bed with her. We lived with my Granny in a small older house in New Iberia, Louisiana. She seemed to step in and be both of our mom. Granny was my safe place. Mom was my best friend and between the two of them I never went without a smile on my face.