The Mother of the Year Award Goes To.......

When I got pregnant I felt sorry for the little fetus growing inside of me. Yes I am a dentist, yes I see kids but no I am not the loving, nurturing type of mom that my own mother was to me. I did not do much babysitting when I was a preteen. I could never get the little cretins to sit still and behave so I did not have a lot of ‘baby skills’. Since I was in dental school at the time I did not have time to attend a class or read a book about infant caregiving. I was however learning embryonic development in my neuroanatomy class so I could tell you when the neural tube closed and which brachial arches formed the face and teeth but I didn’t think that would really help the little guy when he was born.

And it wasn’t pretty…..

I have a picture of me feeding Dalton a bottle when he was just born …his foot is up by his face. Freddy pointed that out to me AFTER the picture was developed – I never noticed. Poor Dalton! I know babies are pretty elastic but you would have thought I had enough sense to know he does not have to do one-legged splits when sucking from a bottle.  Poor Dalton.

Pretty soon it became – poor Debi. He cried. He cried all the time. He wanted to go back – he knew his mother was unqualified for the position. The doctor said it was colic and was due to his stomach being underdeveloped. That was something I could relate too. The doc and I discussed fetal gastrointestinal development for the next twenty minutes….but that did not help Dalton.

The dryer, however did. I would put Dalton in his car seat and put it on the dryer. The vibration and the hum would soothe him to sleep. It worked well until one day I forgot to turn the buzzer off. His eyes shot open, arms flung out and I swear he tried to jump out of that car seat. The crying started again.

My mother came to visit us and asked why I was still feeding him only 4oz of milk at a time. I stated that is what the nurse told me to do. She replied that was correct but obviously as the baby got bigger they required more formula. Didn't I not notice that he latched on to the bottle and devoured it like it was his last meal?  So I gave him 4 more ounces of formula and lo and behold the crying went away. Perhaps the poor creature didn’t have colic – perhaps I was simply starving him!

So he had a little of a rough start…that’s okay he spent the next three years exacting his revenge.

My family loved going out to eat with us because when (not if) Dalton acted up I would escort him to the women’s bathroom and then spank the ever living tarnation out of him. I’m sure that boy has seen more ladies rooms than most boys. Think I was being too hard on him? Here’s an example. One day Freddy, Dalton and I were at Luby’s cafeteria and Dalton decided he didn’t want his bread roll so he threw it across the restaurant and it landed in a man’s plate. Freddy went over to reimburse the guy for his food while I dragged Dalton kicking and screaming to the bathroom to dish out a little discipline. On the way we passed a table of Memphis police officers and Dalton reached out and frantically grabbed the patch on one of the officer’s arms and screamed “she’s gonna hit me!” The officer nonchalantly brushed Dalton’s hand off his arm and stated “you deserve it.”

Dalton had other brushes with the law at an early age. Around four years old he decided he didn’t need to sit in a car seat anymore so he learned to undo his seatbelt. As I was driving to North Little Rock to visit my parents he kept releasing the buckles on his seat and roaming around the car. I pulled the car over and placed him back in the seat multiple times. During one ‘replacement’ I paddled his bottom right on the side of the freeway.  Two cars honked at me while diving by. I looked up at them angrily and thought ‘You have no idea the hell I am living in right now’.

After my visit with my parents I was loading Dalton back into the car. I begged my dad to say something to Dalton about staying in the car seat and he said ‘Dalton your mom will get a ticket if you do not stay in your seat.’ Dalton smiled at him so sweetly and dad's little speech did work for about 20 minutes. We blew by a State Trooper on the side of the road and yes Dalton was waving at him out of the half-opened window.

You guessed it. Blue lights, siren – I’m pulled over.

I met the trooper halfway to his car. I implored him to please help me with this bad batch of DNA that I have terrorizing me from the backseat. He escorted me back to my car and opened up the back door and commanded Dalton to ‘step out of the vehicle’. Dalton looked at me unsure and I told him to do what the police officer wanted. The officer walked Dalton back to his car. I wished I had a camera (this was before cell phones-yes I am old) because the visual of the State Trooper walking hand in hand with my 3 foot son was adorable. He placed Dalton in the back seat and he got into the front seat. They stayed in the car for a couple of minutes and when he returned to my car he put secured Dalton in the car seat and handed me a Warning ticket – with Dalton Tanner Williams name on it. He said I would not have any more problems with Dalton and the ‘seatbelt’.

I didn’t.

Yes Dalton stayed in his car seat the entire time. Instead he found other way to entertain himself on the two hour drive home. He started pelting me with matchbox cars. Dalton has a good aim. He comes by it naturally-his dad loves to play baseball. Each time he hit his target he would gleefully yell "GOTCHA!" After threatening him with his life I calmed down because I realized he would run out of cars soon. Then I looked at the back seat and realized his ‘grandmommie’ had given him the deluxe suitcase full of matchbox cars – at least 50!

Oh well we were almost home. I got off at the exit in Hughes to take the short cut through the country. I pointed out the long rows of cotton growing on each side of the highway trying to divert his attention. Finally I got beamed in the head one too many times. I pulled over slightly off the road and marched over to his side of the car and opened the door. I unbuckled him from the carseat, yanked him out of the car and planted him on the ground. Enraged I shook a finger in his face and yelled ‘NOT NICE!’ I left him on the side of the road, got back in the car and drove off. I saw his stricken face in the rearview mirror but continued on. I watched him in the rearview mirror and turned around on the road just before he got out of my sight. As I came back I thought to myself “you really showed him now…he is going to be so thankful you came back.” He stared at me as I pulled up, got out and picked him up to put him in the carseat. He was still quiet as I went around to climb in the driver’s seat and took off.

Ha taught him good didn’t I? Quietly he said ‘mommy’ and I looked at him from the rearview mirror waiting on his apology. “I could have found the way home.”

Well I guess he did get the last word – however he never threw another toy car at me.

Dalton was the master at getting the ‘last word’.

Another time we were in the car traveling to Little Rock we stopped through McDonalds.  Dalton a Happy Meal and he unwrapped his hamburger and was happily chopping on fries. I had his coke in the front seat cup holder and he asked for it. I told him to take a drink and then give it back to me. He said ‘no’ he wanted to keep it back there with him. I told him ‘no’ this was daddy’s company car and we can’t have a spill in it. I snatched the coke from his hands and put it back in the front seat cup holder. Feeling pretty proud of myself I settled back in my seat to eat. “GIVE ME MY DRINK!! GIVE ME MY DRINK!! I WANT MY DRINK!!” This went on for about five minutes. Frustrated I took his drink, turned around and showed it to him, then flung it out the open window. ‘NOW YOU HAVE NO DRINK!’.  The car became quiet. Then Dalton said “Littering has a $200 fine.”

Yep he had the last word.

One night when Dalton was around 4 he woke me up in the middle of the night informing me he had 'hiccupped all over his room'.  Trying to figure out what he was talking about I followed him to his room to find 10 tiny piles of vomit scattered all over the carpet.  I knelt down and gave him a hug and told him he must be having his first stomach virus.  I settled him on the couch with a wet washcloth (and a trashcan) and cleaned his room.  Afterwards I settled him on my lap on the couch and he snuggled his head up under my neck and informed me 'I love you because you are my mom."

I love you because you are my mom.

Not because of what I do or have done in the past- not because I am perfect but because I am his. I love him too because he is my son – Happy Mother's Day