The Real lJ Idol, Week 12: Salty
She knows she's in trouble when she hears the front door slam, followed by the unmistakable sound of something small and not quite soft thudding against the wall. It hits her in that moment. She left her shoes by the front door again. She runs out to the living room to try to diffuse the situation before it gets out of control. The splash of mud on the living room wall answers the question of the source of the thud. Her mother has thrown her shoes across the room.
"I'm sorry, momma! I took off my shoes 'cuz they were muddy but then the baby needed a diaper change and Kyle needed a snack and then I started on my homework and I just forgot. I had a long day at school. It ain't my fault the baby hadn't been changed all day."
"Girl, you are eight years old. You are old enough to remember to put your shoes away when you get home from school. And stop being so salty."
She rubs her hands up and down her arms, but no salt falls off. Later, she sucks on a bit of her hair, but it doesn't taste at all salty. She has no idea why her mother tells her she's salty.
She hears the key in the lock and she listens to how hard the front door closes. The sound of the door closing is directly proportional to her mother's mood. Quiet, gentle close means mom's okay to talk to. Loud slam means mom's on a rampage. Get out there quickly and apologize for whatever it is you've done wrong.
The door slams. Hard. The footsteps sound like a giant's as they approach her bedroom door.
"Why are the cookies gone?" her mother asks.
"I don't know. I didn't eat them."
"What do you mean you don't know? You're in charge of your siblings while I'm at work. How can you not know what happened to the cookies?"
She blinks at the clock by her bed. It's almost midnight. She tries to think. "I fed them at 5:30, read them stories and put them to bed at 7:30, then did my homework, and was in bed at 9:45. I didn't eat all the cookies and there were definitely cookies left when I went to bed. Everyone had two after dinner."
"So what happened to the rest of them?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know? I was asleep. Maybe one of them woke up and ate them. Did you try asking them instead of assuming I did it?"
"You are in charge when I'm gone. You're 13 now. You're old enough to keep them in line and monitor what goes on in this house. How did I manage to raise such a salty child?"
By the time she reaches high school, she has learned what her mother truly means by "salty" and has embraced it. She figures whenever something goes wrong, it's automatically going to be her fault anyway, so she might as well get her feelings out as best she can.
Her favorite moment of saltiness comes when she arrives home from Prom. Her mother was in a mood because the young'uns were misbehaving.
"Why is your brother so difficult to get along with? Why doesn't he listen? I tried to get him to eat his carrots at dinner tonight. You were, of course, no help."
"I wasn't even here. How was I supposed to help?"
"You were supposed to help me teach him how to do as he's told."
"He's twelve and you never say 'no' to him. Instead, you've always just let him do whatever he wants."
"I do not."
"He threw a chair through a window and broke two TVs because he couldn't beat his level in Mario Kart. You bought him a new TV and never once got angry with him. No wonder he doesn't listen when you tell him to finish dinner. I'd say his behavior is your fault."
"Well, he broke all the dishes in the kitchen. I need you to clean them up. Maybe this'll teach you to better understand what I'm dealing with when it comes to him."
"How is does this have anything to do with me?"
"Child, for once in your life will you stop being so salty and just DO AS I SAY? I am your mother and you are to listen to me. You had a large hand in raising that boy and you've made a mess of things, so now it's time you clean up a mess he made."
She does, because her cleaning up the broken dishes was going to happen regardless of what she said. It makes her feel a little better that she at least got to mouth off a bit.
After all, if the consequences are the same regardless of what she says, isn't being salty better, and more fun, than staying quiet?
"I'm sorry, momma! I took off my shoes 'cuz they were muddy but then the baby needed a diaper change and Kyle needed a snack and then I started on my homework and I just forgot. I had a long day at school. It ain't my fault the baby hadn't been changed all day."
"Girl, you are eight years old. You are old enough to remember to put your shoes away when you get home from school. And stop being so salty."
She rubs her hands up and down her arms, but no salt falls off. Later, she sucks on a bit of her hair, but it doesn't taste at all salty. She has no idea why her mother tells her she's salty.
She hears the key in the lock and she listens to how hard the front door closes. The sound of the door closing is directly proportional to her mother's mood. Quiet, gentle close means mom's okay to talk to. Loud slam means mom's on a rampage. Get out there quickly and apologize for whatever it is you've done wrong.
The door slams. Hard. The footsteps sound like a giant's as they approach her bedroom door.
"Why are the cookies gone?" her mother asks.
"I don't know. I didn't eat them."
"What do you mean you don't know? You're in charge of your siblings while I'm at work. How can you not know what happened to the cookies?"
She blinks at the clock by her bed. It's almost midnight. She tries to think. "I fed them at 5:30, read them stories and put them to bed at 7:30, then did my homework, and was in bed at 9:45. I didn't eat all the cookies and there were definitely cookies left when I went to bed. Everyone had two after dinner."
"So what happened to the rest of them?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know? I was asleep. Maybe one of them woke up and ate them. Did you try asking them instead of assuming I did it?"
"You are in charge when I'm gone. You're 13 now. You're old enough to keep them in line and monitor what goes on in this house. How did I manage to raise such a salty child?"
By the time she reaches high school, she has learned what her mother truly means by "salty" and has embraced it. She figures whenever something goes wrong, it's automatically going to be her fault anyway, so she might as well get her feelings out as best she can.
Her favorite moment of saltiness comes when she arrives home from Prom. Her mother was in a mood because the young'uns were misbehaving.
"Why is your brother so difficult to get along with? Why doesn't he listen? I tried to get him to eat his carrots at dinner tonight. You were, of course, no help."
"I wasn't even here. How was I supposed to help?"
"You were supposed to help me teach him how to do as he's told."
"He's twelve and you never say 'no' to him. Instead, you've always just let him do whatever he wants."
"I do not."
"He threw a chair through a window and broke two TVs because he couldn't beat his level in Mario Kart. You bought him a new TV and never once got angry with him. No wonder he doesn't listen when you tell him to finish dinner. I'd say his behavior is your fault."
"Well, he broke all the dishes in the kitchen. I need you to clean them up. Maybe this'll teach you to better understand what I'm dealing with when it comes to him."
"How is does this have anything to do with me?"
"Child, for once in your life will you stop being so salty and just DO AS I SAY? I am your mother and you are to listen to me. You had a large hand in raising that boy and you've made a mess of things, so now it's time you clean up a mess he made."
She does, because her cleaning up the broken dishes was going to happen regardless of what she said. It makes her feel a little better that she at least got to mouth off a bit.
After all, if the consequences are the same regardless of what she says, isn't being salty better, and more fun, than staying quiet?