I Once Called My Mom a 'Bitch' Because I Didn't Like My New Shoes.

One morning when I was in the sixth grade or so, I was in the car with my mom as she dropped me off for school. I didn’t want to get out and go. Way too embarrassed. I looked at my mom with an angry face and said “I want to call you a bad name because you’re making me go to school with these stupid shoes.” “Go ahead” she replied. “You’re a bitch!” And then I gathered my backpack and begrudgingly exited the car and walked to the schoolyard. She drove off to work.

I think about that situation more than I used to. Maybe it’s because my mom passed a couple of years ago and, because there’s always so many things left unsaid, I reflect on my time with her and the past interactions I had with her more now compared to when she was alive. That time I called her a bad name because I was unhappy with my new shoes, did my words hurt her deeply or was she able to shrug them off? I’ll never know. I don’t recall ever bringing that moment up with my mom, and I don’t remember how we acted when she picked me up later that day. Thinking back on that moment, I do know my resentment and anger and frustration I felt that morning due to me having shoes I didn’t like because of a brand name - Zips instead of Adidas 1 - was one of the most petty things I ever let myself get worked up over. And I took it out on my mom.

Sorry, mom.

Now that I’m older, I like to think I’m less petty, much more wise and patient. Which is a bunch of crap. I still get frustrated at inconsequential things on the daily. However, when that happens, I try to remember those Zips sneakers and the pair of Adidas I really wanted. And each time I try to pull a mental image of them, I can’t. I have no mental image of those shoes I wore nor a memory of the shoes I wanted. I don’t think any of my peers even noticed I had new shoes. I don’t remember. The sunken feeling of shame and guilt from calling my mom a demeaning name will forever be with me, though. It hits pretty hard as I write this reflection, actually. I guess this is a lesson my mom keeps teaching me after all these decades and she didn’t even know it.

Thank you, mom.

Footnotes

1. There’s a D.J. Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince song about this: Parents Just Don’t Understand