Sherri Gragg

Juggler of words and children…collector of pottery shards

We Slay

I-65, the HOV lane. Rush hour. The windows were down on the Jeep in spite of the chill in air. We were on our way home after the cross country finals in Nashville and well…middle school sports motivate moms to keep the windows down even as fall descends and winter threatens to creep in on her coat tails.

A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Our stomachs grumbled. Traffic was heavy. My baby girl was in pain after coming in dead last for her team as she ran with multiple injuries. My phone buzzed again and again with texts from home that I couldn’t even read, much less answer, as I drove.

Grim right?

Nah, because I remembered the best parenting lesson my Mom ever taught me.

When your kids look back, what picture of you do you want them to see? Do you want them to see a stressed out, angry mom or do you want them to remember a little bit of fun?

I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina, the child of a preacher. What exactly did my mom have to work with when it came to ridiculousness, hilarity…pure fun?

She was often at home alone with the three of us on that mountain as my Dad went about his pastoral responsibilities. We didn’t have much money. Besides, it was a small mountain town. There was no trampoline park, or laser tag. We didn’t even have fast fogiphy-4od places that I remember and if we did, I doubt we could have afforded it.

The mountains were glorious. We could have explored those, I guess but…Mom was a survivor of the polio epidemic. Just caring for us each and every day took all she had.

Our black and white television only picked up a few channels with the help of an antenna affixed to the top of the house and one of those rabbit ear thingys we had to adjust just right so that we could watch Happy Days and Laverne and Shirley. We played outside a lot but when that grew old, what did Mom do to show us a good time?

She pretended to be an insane, out of control race car giphy-5driver when she was behind the wheel of the car as she drove us around our small mountain town.

And we thought it was a riot. The absolute best.

.

Mom The Crazed Race Car Driver taught me so much. She taught me that no matter how hard life was, no matter how little one had, that there was always room for joy. 

But most of all…She taught me that no matter how difficult it was to care for my brothers and sisters and me with her broken body and limited resources, that we were not, for even a minute, a burden. We were, in fact…

The absolute light of her life. Her delight.

Last night I remembered my mother’s lesson well.

It was just me and my baby girl barreling down the HOV lane, the windows down on the Jeep, and some sweet tunes turned up way too loud. One hand on the wheel. Both of us with one thumb up for a microphone. 

Carpool Karaoke, baby.

“We were so good,” she said later over a subpar dinner that had cooked in the crockpot a little too long.giphy-2

“Oh, my gosh,” I retorted, “What about our dance moves?”

“We slay,” she said.

“We slay,” I said.
“We slay…” She smiled.

It was the best parenting lesson my Mom ever taught me.

 

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4 comments on “We Slay

  1. Susan
    September 29, 2016

    Sherri – love it; think a lot of your mum, and it is what I’ve always tried to do w/my boys. BTW, we are awesome singers in the car, too!

  2. marcy10
    September 29, 2016

    Love you baby. You can always bring a tear of pride to my eye. How truly blessed I was to stay home with the 3 of you. You were so much fun in every stage of life. I know this sounds insane but the years when I had 3 teenagers at one time were the most fun. You were all always able to get my “sick sense of humor”, as I was sometime told. But it was all good even when I had to threaten to vacuum up the toys if they weren’t picked. ❤️

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

    • Sherri
      September 30, 2016

      My light. My strength. My love. Simply the best. 🙂

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This entry was posted on September 29, 2016 by in adoption, babies, children, crazy hip blog mamas, family, kids, large family.
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