Happy Birthday, Mom.
This past Sunday was my mom’s birthday, so naturally, I felt compelled to write a blog capturing how important my mom has been to me and to thank her for the 43 years of unwavering support and love. To be honest, I went back and forth thinking of the best way to articulate this. The more I thought about it, one real-life example stood out, and I think this sums up my mom perfectly. This story is 100% real!
The place: Rosslyn Jr. High School. The time: Spring of 1992. The outcome: Two grown men realizing that my mom gives zero shits and would gladly fight them at the drop of a hat. For the record, I was always a good student. Looking back, I probably could have applied myself more, but in the big scheme of things, I did okay in school. As I like to put it, whether you get straight A’s or straight C’s… at the end of the day, a degree is a degree. Now, from time to time, my friends and I did get in trouble, but for the most part, teachers always liked us, and everything was chalked up to honest fun and horsing around. So, let’s rewind to Grade 7. My teacher, Ms. Christue, was away sick, so we had a substitute teacher. I don’t know if it’s the same now, but whenever you had a substitute teacher, it was open season — think of it as a day off school while still having to be in school. In addition to having a substitute teacher, we had a sexual education class with… you guessed it… a guest speaker; literally, a 2-for-1 special. If there was anyone else who was keenly aware of the powder keg Ms. Christue’s absence created, it was our substitute teacher (I think his name was Mr. Balko). I even remember him coming up to me and my group of friends, giving us fair warning that if we messed around, we’d be out. I distinctly remember him coming up to me, locking eyes, and saying, “If you mess around, you won’t be around.” (Oddly enough, I use that phrase to this day.) To be honest, he was a really good guy and I always enjoyed him as a sub, even after this whole course of events; he was always good to me.
It goes without saying that I got kicked out of class. I don’t remember exactly what got me kicked out, but I remember the guest speaker cueing up a video that we were going to watch. About 5 minutes into the video, after cracking a few jokes, I abruptly found myself sitting outside the classroom door in a kind of “real-time” detention. (Yes, this blog is still about my mom, but it’s important that I give some backstory.) I was sitting outside the classroom and from what I gathered, the video was a kind of question and answer with teenage kids. So, they would have a bunch of kids in different settings asking the camera questions, and then the narrator would answer them. It was a simpler time and saved our parents from having “The Talk” with us, and downloaded that responsibility to our teacher. I guess the teachers somehow downloaded that responsibility to the substitute… who then downloaded it to a guest speaker… who finally did the only sensible thing and just put a video on for the class to watch.
The TV was quite loud, and I could hear everything in the video clearly from where I was sitting. For the most part, I have to say it was informative and shed light on a lot of things. That was until a very specific point in the video where they panned the camera (or at least I assume so because I couldn’t see it) to this one kid, and his question was, honest to God, word for word, as follows:
“If I don’t have a condom, can I use a balloon?”
I was 12 years old and remember thinking to myself, “If this guy doesn’t have a condom in his wallet, what are the chances this dummy is walking around with a bag of balloons in his back pocket?” I could not contain myself and started hysterically laughing out loud and may have said something to the effect of “that kid is a f*cken moron.” Not realizing how loud I was laughing and how loud I said it, Mr. Balko whipped the door open, grabbed me by the back of my shirt (literally picking me off my feet), and walked me towards the principal’s office. As he was walking me to the principal’s office, lifting me so I was pretty much walking on my tiptoes, I remember walking past the front entrance of the school. To my right, there was a large emblem of a roadrunner (we were called the Rosslyn Road Runners); to my left, the front doors. I kid you not, as we were walking past the roadrunner, who comes walking in at the exact moment? You betcha… my mom. Apparently, I had forgotten my lunch at home and my mom came with my younger brother (we call him LuLu) to drop it off for me. I knew right then and there… Mr. Balko was screwed!
My dad is an awesome guy and I owe him a lot, but let’s just say if the school called telling him I was in trouble, he would side with the teachers 11 out of 10 times. If it was my dad walking through the door, it would have probably ended up with him and Mr. Balko beating me with a phone book like a bunch of crooked cops. Luckily, it wasn’t my dad this time, but my mom instead. Now, I’m not a moron, I knew I was in the wrong. Was he being a little excessive in his handling of me…maybe, but from his perspective, I get that he was trying to handle a class of 30 kids…all dumb like me and needed to make an example out of the first kid who did something wrong. Even at 12, I understood that. My mom, on the other hand…gave two hoots about his rhyme, reason, or intent. As far as she was concerned, Mr. Balko was on death row, he just didn’t know it yet.
He naturally eased up his grip when he saw someone walk into the school (still not knowing that it was my mom). Eventually, he put two and two together as we approached the principal’s office. He sat me down at the front and went into our principal, Mr. Forton’s, office and spoke to him about what had happened. Mr. Forton (who was also a good guy and a GREAT principal) came up to me and told me that I needed to go home for the day. I started to get worried, not about the going home part; but more so, the dad chasing me around the house when he finds out why part. At that point, in a very calm and cool voice, she asked to speak to Mr. Forton and Mr. Balko in his office. Anyone who knows my mom knows her personality is anything but “calm and cool” …if she’s got something to say, trust me, you’re going to hear it. This calm nature threw me off for a split second, but only that second. I looked over at Lulu, he looked back at me, and just like in the movies, we gave each other a simple nod and just waited for it…
For the next 5 minutes, all you could hear was my mom, in her broken English accent, yelling at the top of her lungs at these two guys. Every time one of them tried to interject, she would shut them down and tell them to be quiet when she’s talking. I knew they were in trouble when my mom called Mr. Balko a bastard within 20 seconds of her tirade. I honestly can’t articulate how loud/funny it was listening to my mom scream at these guys; while at the same time, not 100% grasping how to say the English swear words she was using. The funny part to me is that Lulu and I were sitting in chairs right in front of the office secretary and she was looking at us in complete and utter shock. She was probably thinking something like “how can these kids be subjected to this kind of screaming at home” and me and my brother were thinking “this lady better mind her own business if she knows what’s good for her because my mom doesn’t discriminate”. After the initial yelling, it did calm down, but my mom was still doing about 90% of the talking. A few more minutes passed, Mr. Balko came out of the office. He walked up to me and said something that no teacher in the history of Edmonton Public Schools has said before or since to a student… “I’m Sorry.” This lady got a grown man to say sorry to a 12-year-old and walk back to class, head down the entire way there so he didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone. My mom grabbed Lulu, looked at me, and told me to go back to class. I was confused because Mr. Forton told me to go home. I looked Mr. Forton’s way, and he just shook his head and told me to go back to class.
For those of you wondering what this story has to do with a blog about your appreciation for your mom…well, a lot. My entire life, no matter what…I always knew I had the unconditional love and support of my mom! As she puts it, “I know what I raised.” She knows that she raised good, honest, and hard-working kids and would never stand by while someone took advantage of them, no matter the circumstance. It was such a reassuring feeling growing up and even now as an adult to know that no matter what is going on and how difficult things can get, you always, 100% of the time, have your mom in your corner. That feeling is worth its weight in gold. I now have my own family and always keep that unbridled support top of mind when talking to my kids. I tell them, no matter what is happening, no matter how mad you think me, and mommy will get…we always got your back! I am unbelievably blessed to have a mom who instilled kindness, humbleness, and appreciation as core pillars; while at the same time, making sure I stayed tough, hungry, strong, and kept a strong sense of faith in how I live my life.
That one incident in grade 7 taught me many life lessons and before you ask, NO…it’s not “don’t leave home without your handy bag of balloons”. I learned, or maybe better put, reinforced the fact that my mom has always had my back, that I am unconditionally loved, there is no one I can count on like I can my mom. Most importantly, my mom is here to shower my three boys with that same love and affection every day.
Yesterday was her birthday, although I can’t say how old she is (not because it’s rude to tell a lady’s age, she has literally told people she is 35 years old as long as I remember), I can say I love you and thank you for everything you have done for me.
Happy birthday, mom. I am blessed to have you!!!
