Giving "Permission" to My Mom

This is a post of a story told backwards. It begins at the end... and ends at the beginning of the story. It is the story of Mini-Haha and my attempt to give the story back to my Mom.

Now on our fifth child, and having had a chance to reflect on my own childhood, I see now that children are God's way of giving us a chance for redemption. And of teaching us to laugh at ourselves. As children, we did things that hurt our parents, whether intentionally or not. Now as parents, we are no more perfect than our parents were.

The youngest photo I have access to that is digitized. About 11 or 12 here. 

One of the things I used to get so angry with my mother for was her delight in telling a story of my earliest years. We parents love to catalog the foibles and amusing events of our children's lives, don't we? Already I watch my own children and find myself telling others of this or that amusing thing that they've done. God bless them  - but I can't help it, they're so often just so funny! And in another five or ten years, we won't be laughing together over the events in question. Instead, I'll be wondering what happened while my child gets angry at me for sharing stories we'd always laughed at together in the past.

The story my mother used to tell embarrassed me terribly when I was in high school. The last time I recall hearing her tell it, I was about 14 and we were at a boyfriend's house. I don't remember why it came up, but my mother took delight in telling the "Mini-Haha" story to my then-boyfriend's mother. I was furious and embarrassed. It is to my shame that I was embarrassed to the point of crying like a small child. Had I been the truly mature person I thought I was, I would have shrugged it off as just another story told by a parent; instead, I left the kitchen for the front porch in tears. Childish, right? 

What a heart-breaking moment it will be when my child rejects a story that I hold so dear in my memory. So, knowing that the day will come when my own favorites are rejected that way, I am giving my mom "permission" to tell her story again, with my love and blessing of it. I am sorry I ever reacted the way that I did to it. I hope my own children are more understanding than I was in the future.

Here is the "Mini-Hahah" story as I remember it. She'll have to make corrections in the comments for those things that I miss. 

Apparently, when I was around the age of learning to use a potty-chair, I made funny little "chicken" noises when I was trying to go. Sort of a "krrrr... krrrrr" sound, and one that my many aunts and uncles found very funny. Mom was one of ten children so there were plenty around to laugh! Stay tuned to the comments for the filling details to this story - without further comment of my own, I invite my Mom to continue the tale...