As a fledgling writer it can be difficult to accurately capture the nuance and depth of relationships. My mother has complained bitterly for the past six months that I only write funny things about her whereas the stories I tell about my father are heartfelt tributes.

Thus I took the morning to sweat over a warm, loving post which accurately described the gratitude I felt for my mother. It was hard. That post took significantly longer than most of my other works but at the end I was proud; I had created something authentic and very personal. I was excited to not only share it with my Mom but with others in my writing community.

As with any post that contains someone aside from Roscoe and me, I always obtain permission before putting it up for the internet to read. Despite months of statements and whining to the contrary when my mother heard the post she said “It’s wonderful but you can’t put it on The Great Unwashed.”

Apparently as much as my Mom wanted something heartfelt and lovely written about her she doesn’t want others to see it. So instead I’m going to tell a story about when she fell into bushes and bruised her backside.

Once upon a time when rollerblading was all the rage and frizzy hair was trendy; my family went to Disney World. Diana and I were very fortunate because we had both our maternal grandparents and our uncle with us. This meant that my mother and father had lots of time  to enjoy themselves while my Gran and Granddad took Diana and I on the magic teacups until my grandfather felt like he was going to puke. My father spent this extra time wandering around EPCOT like a normal person. By contrast, my mother chose instead to strap on her rollerblades which she had lugged all the way from Canada to go for a skate around our resort.

This was the early nineties so rollerblading was new and sexy. All the celebrities were doing it, in our home alone there were three “Rollerblade to the Oldies” VHS tapes. However it was still a new sport, especially to our family. Not surprisingly my mother had not yet mastered the finer points of the activity, like braking. Which was fine along most parts of the resort path where there were helpful ferns and innocent tourists to grab a hold of to slow oneself but then my mother got to a hill, specifically a downhill. Picking up speed as she raced along the incline, my young mother started to lose control of her rollerblades. This was how she fell butt first into the Disney landscaping.

Now this story is mortifying enough as is but it gets worse. My Mom spent the rest of the trip showing off the effects of her fall to anyone who would look at her purple and navy blue butt. The bruises were absolutely giant, covering most of her bum and upper thighs, they were the size of a two year old.

NOT my mother. Although she insisted on showing her bruises to anyone with a pair of eyes, my Mom refused to create photographic evidence thus I have no authentic depictions to share. (Photo Credit : slanchreport.com)

I hope everyone enjoyed that story, I had wanted to tell you about what a special person my mother is and the type of mother she is but my Mom didn’t want that. So instead you got giant butt bruises. I love you Mom, you’re welcome.