Riddle me this: How long will The Mom be the boss of me? I’m imagining it will be forever. Isn’t that how this whole mother-daughter relationship works?
This weekend we had a rodeo in Steelville, the floating capital of Missouri.
I missed the Friday night performance, in part due to some Friday night lights over at the high school, and the rest because of my refusal to read road signs–I took a lovely 45-minute (read: unnecessary) detour to Union.
My dad’s knee is kaput, and probably has been for some time; I’d assume it’s the Gillum hard head that has put off the realization of this fact until recently.
Because of this medical issue I have been appointed to fill his role at our rodeos. This means I have to be in the arena during each of the rough stock events (saddle bronc and bareback riding, bull riding) to play ring master.
Try telling this to The Mom (yes, Mary Beth Gillum is to be referred to as “The Mom”–spend any amount of time with her and you’ll realize why…).
The Mom doesn’t like the idea of her teeny child being subjected to the danger of the rodeo arena without protection. I’d assume her idea of protection includes head to toe bubble wrap. This is why I spent the duration of the Saturday night bull riding event jumping in and out of the arena at her request (demand).
Let me set you straight: I’m basically fearless. Lance McCollum’s mean three-year-old bucking bulls are no match for me (just kidding, Lancey–they’re pretty scary), but Mrs. Gillum thinks otherwise.
After a 10 minute debate on my capabilities of getting out of the way when my life is in danger and The Mom informing me, in not so many words, that I’m stupid, we finally reached an accord.
Basically, she told me what to do, and I did it.
Does the fact that I’m a 22-year-old wife, in charge of my own house and my own bills (for the most part), and entrusted to write an entire newspaper mean nothing? Yes, apparently it does.
I learned a hard lesson Saturday. Until you’re in the ground, your mother is the boss. Don’t agree with me? Just wait until she counts to three in front of hundreds of people.