The mother’s curse is the most powerful, potent spell that can be placed on anyone. I didn’t realize growing up just how mystical my mom was, and am still trying to figure out just what it was I did to her to cause her to place this ominous voodoo on me. I really wish I could have focused better as a kid.
Hindsight, yeah, it’s true, always 20/20. I’ve asked her if she had the same High Priest out for my brothers, but all I get is a nervous laugh. I’ve begged for answers. All she’ll tell me was I was a good kid, a quiet little girl. I’m wondering if her fingers are crossed behind her back when she says that over the phone. There is no sign of hysterics in her voice.
I know for a fact that my brothers caused so many more problems than I did. I got a late start compared to them. I couldn’t even begin to cause havoc until I was six, so she missed the terrible twos, diaper changes, sleepless nights that my brothers put her through. That alone should have counted for something.
I’m so confused, you could not find a more mild mannered individual than myself. Low maintenance, well balanced. Never am I Chicken Little, no sky is ever falling. I handle life’s lessons as they arise, with little fuss. So how is then, that I have four very high strung children, boys at that, that can make any daytime soap opera seem like a sitcom. “Oh My God” begins nine out of ten sentences. With them, I save money on the annual stress tests with a physician, but I’m sure the cost is much higher for their daily doses.
I’m going to make sure to read all the fine print before coming back for my next life, as I must have missed something this time around. My consolation, I can use the same motherly power to pass this curse since the dawn of time down to the next generation. When they are at wits end, I’ll be laughing hysterically, and will just have some excuse when they want me to babysit their spawn.
