Friday, Aug. 15, 2008

The Confessions of a Mad Housewife

Michele Valdez

I never say never — well, almost never — because I don’t want to eat my words.

But, I said that five-letter word again, and now I am swallowing hard.

Fortunately, words have no calories or fat content because I have eaten my words so many times that I could be a poster child for bariatric surgery. I don’t need a lap band, but I do need to be tongue tied.

Last year, most of the senior parents were sapping over the final year of high school and how sad it was.

I had no patience for that talk.

I proudly and defiantly let everyone know that I wasn’t sad, and never would be.

College would be the best time of my daughter’s life, and I was thrilled for her. I may even have pounded my chest. It was definitely an Arnold Schwarzenegger moment.

Oddly enough, something changed.

I dare say it happened when I was shopping — and I thought nothing could bring me down from a shopping high!

I was with my soon-to-be college co-ed debating which throw pillow would best complete her dorm XL twin ensemble.

I felt a pang in my heart. How could I be emotional about which shade of pink to select? My lip quivered, but I held it together.

Later that day, we browsed for a plate and bowl so she could eat in her dorm room. With doe eyes and childlike innocence, my princess asked which day of the week the cleaning people would get to her room.

I laughed so loud the patrons of Bed, Bath & Beyond began to stare.

I let my innocent know that there would be no cleaning lady, janitor, housekeeper or little sister she could coax into tidying her room. This was reality; she was on her own.

As we wandered through the aisles, my eyes began to tear.

I pictured her as a 4-year-old with wild and curly blond locks jumping into my bed on Saturday mornings; I remembered how she professed that her friends would never be more important than her dad and me; and, I smiled as I recalled her quizzical look when I explained the facts of life using a banana and two mushrooms as props.

We shopped for every banquet, prom and homecoming dress together. We painstakingly assembled every "first-day-of-school" outfit.

From softball to basketball to tennis, we practiced each sport in our driveway or front yard, and I embarrassed her by screaming louder than the other parents on the sidelines. We labored for hours over school projects and danced in our kitchen to the latest hip-hop tunes. I held her tight as she sobbed through her biggest disappointments and snapped photos of her priceless smile for each of her triumphs. Her childhood was my adulthood, but her adulthood will be her own. That day I ate my words, again.

I am excited about the new life my daughter will soon begin, but I am profoundly sad she is leaving.

Someday, I hope she too will eat her words when her daughter heads to college.

Michele Valdez is a slightly compulsive, mildly angry feminist, past attorney and present volunteer. She lives in Colleyville with her demanding children and husband.