Stunts My Mama & I Have Pulled

Today, my daughter greeted me with tears and a tale of wrong-doing on the part of certain employees in our complex's office. After walking home from school in the August heat of Texas, she had gone in for a little paper cone cup of water from the 5 gallon bottle the office keeps on hand, though apparently Reserved for Employees and Future Residents Only. The childless cow who guards the sacred bottle declined, in fact refused to dole out the 1/3 cup portion of water to my daughter on the grounds that if she supplied it to one kid, she would have to for all of them. The two then sat in silence and looked at each other, perhaps waiting for this flood of children to bear down on the water-keeper, for the 10 minutes it took me to fetch my girl.
I pondered this event in calm consternation as I altered my route home to include a trip to the grocery store. There, we purchased a case of water bottles and all the makings of a gift basket. My daughter watched from the air-conditioned front seat of the car as I cheerfully fashioned an elaborate display of thirst-quenching generosity, and she smiled politely when we delivered it to the aforementioned cow, whose nervous embarrassment was obviously at odds with her exclamation of thanks.
"Lady," I said, "I wouldn't piss on you if your hair was on fire, but if your daughter was thirsty I would give her a damn drink of water."

That was the second time in less than a week that I had seen my daughter gaze at me with pride and trust. While attending a school function the other day, we returned to our vehicle to find that another car had parked behind mine, effectively trapping us. My daughter was utterly perplexed, but I waited a few moments in patient meditation, giving the thoughtless driver a chance to return. When another car down the row a ways vacated a space, I told my girl to get in the car and buckle up. She paused long enough to watch me place the gum I had been chewing under the door handle of the car that had blocked me. Her shock and confusion escalated as I silently drove over the schoolyard to slip smoothly through the vacated space. Even I was impressed with our ability to exit with such grace from a difficult situation.

Tunes of "Harper Valley PTA" went through my mind as we drove on, smiling while the wind blew our hair and the setting sun glinted in the rearview mirror.

These things reminded me of an episode years ago during one of my little brother's softball games when Mama and I were watching from the car along the fencerow. A particularly hateful neighbor decided to try to pass through the narrow space with her epic-sized nachos and pickles rather than going around my mom's tiny blue Toyota. Her generous proportions made navigating the pass difficult for her, and she squawked loudly, "Some People just don't know how to paaarrk!" I don't think it was so much the remark as it was the sneering expression on the woman's face, all wrinkled nose and snarly lips, that motivated my mother to release the parking brake. The car rolled forward just enough to pin the hippopotamus-shaped woman against the chainlink fence, resulting in much waving of gelatinous arms, spilled refreshments, and ridiculous expressions that bent the snarly lips like a wire coat hanger. In case her shrill activities did not attract enough attention, Mama's boob pressed the horn for an extended amount of time as she craned forward to watch my brother catch a pop fly. It was hard to see around the spectacle.

As if sensing my nostalgia, my mom called me this evening. After our customary greetings and mutual assurance that we were doing okay and had talked to my brother recently, the conversation went something like this...
Mama: Well, I have to explain something before you find out anyway.
Me: ...okay...
Mama: Some neighborhood kids stopped by today, and I thought they were offering to mow my lawn for me so I told them I did not have enough gas in the lawn mower. They said they were just warning me that I would get a citation for my grass being too high. Since I don't want Another Citation, especially since the felony charges for assaulting an animal control officer have not been tried before a jury of my peers yet, I decided to try to mow it myself.
(Note - my mother is 61 years old and is bipolar, so get ready for the rest of the story.)
Mama: I mowed most of it even though it was getting dark, but then I realized that the keys I had pinned to my underwear had come loose and gotten lost somewhere in the yard.
Me: You have a key to the bathroom window? (Mama enters and exits the house only through her bathroom window with the assistance of an elaborate structure consisting of rusted bathtubs and cast iron stoves in the carport.)
Mama: No, no, these are keys to other things. Do you remember that cabinet I used to have?
Me: Uhh...
Mama: Anyway, I had been feeling all over and couldn't find the keys in my pants, so I took them off. Then, I got down on my hands and knees to look through the grass with my cigarette lighter.
Me: Oh, no.
Mama: Turns out, I had more gasoline than I thought I did, and that is why the fire department is here, and my turtle is dead. I love you, and I love you ... there is someone in an official-looking uniform who wants to talk to you ...