I Would Like to Thank...

>> Monday, February 15, 2010

I remember when I was young, watching my mother scrub floors and weed the garden. She often had a mat to sit on, and she had an awkward way of getting up that involved some acrobatics to be sure her knees never touched the ground. As for me, I just crawled around, and when I was done, I popped up and went on my way.

One day, I asked me mother why she didn't crawl around like I did. She said something that bothered me for many, many years. She said, "My knees hurt when I put pressure on them like that." Well I surely didn't understand that reaction. It didn't seem quite right to me. Knees didn't, or at least shouldn't, work that way.

Then she said something totally silly. She said, "I used to be like you, and someday your knees will probably hurt too." Right. That's just dumb. Knees don't just do that. Obviously something was wrong with hers. When my mother had a double knee replacement, I figured my theory was true. My mother just had defective knees.

Then, one day, a few weeks ago, I found myself having a few twinges as I scrubbed my kitchen floor. Little sharp pains starting shooting up from my knee cap when I tried to get up. Pretty soon I found myself finding other ways to pull myself from the floor and alternatives to crawling around the floor. Twenty-five years later, my mother's words have come back to haunt me.

All of this brings to mind the things that make me thankful. I feel the time has come for me to share these feelings.

First, I would like to thank my mother. I would like to thank her for so many things.

1. Obviously, I would like to thank my mother for my knees.

2. I would like to thank her for my pending osteoporosis.

3. My genetic high blood pressure has brought a geat deal of excitement to my recent years.

4. I simply adore my weak jaw joints and yellow teeth, but even more I am thankful for the flouride pills at the breakfast table so that I do not share the mouthful of metal fillings. Thank you, Mom, for deciding some things were too special to share.

Next, I would like to thank my father.

1. I would like to thank him for my Toddler's unibrow.

2. Of course, I must thank him for my lifelong dairy allergy.

3. Not a day goes by where I don't wish to thank my father for my temper.

4. As I reach for my glasses, and think of all the years I spent in bifocals, I thank my father for my eyesight.

5. Most importantly, I think I must thank my father for creating such an anal system of organization in his house that I can never possibly live up to it for the rest of my life. Yes, it is to my father that I feel I must credit my feeling that things are never quite good enough.

I also wish to thank other members of my family.

1. I would like to thank Oldest Sister for telling me that what I do and how I behave reflects on her as well as on myself and my parents. Of course, she is wrong, because I do not take any credit or blame for her behavior, but this sentence did feed nicely into my generalized guilt complex.

2. I would like to thank Middle Sister for her influence on my self-consciousness by calling me "pizza face," signing me up for Weight Watchers on her nickle, and dying my hair, "something other than that mousy brown."

3. I would like to thank my Aunt for giving me the mistaken impression that it never snows south of the Mason-Dixon line.

4. I would like to thank each of my ancestors, from my parents back through the dawn of time, for failing to hand down one tiny gene of height to me. I can hardly thank you enough.

Of course, I have yet to provide any written thanks to my husband and my son, but these moments are so special that don't know if I can bring myself to write them down just yet. I'm sure you understand.


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