See All The Ducklings...

I understood my mother’s anger. It probably came in three parts. The first was, that I had stolen something. That much was simple. She was angry about that. Then the second was, that I had lied to her. That too was understandable. She was also mildly angry about that. But the third was definitely because of embarrassment. She hated public embarrassment more than anything. The idea that someone would find out that I had stolen something and a member of her family could be publicly branded as a thief, that was probably what drove the repeated whacks and thwacks I now experienced as I tripped across the lawn.

I recall a story I had heard many times in our household when our mother with several children (four under six or seven I believe it was), was crossing the road with the children strung out behind in a line. A foolish truck driver had leant from his window with the comment “Quack, Quack, Quack” indicating he thought my mother was like a mother duck. I wouldn’t doubt that my mother puffed herself up and dealt summarily with the careless comment (but it is funny).

My howls would carry around the neighbourhood. (Never seemed to concerned about public embarrassment then). “Don’t (whack) you (smack)  ever (thwack) do (slap) that! (miss… if I was lucky).” My mother was fiery at times when riled and I had occasion to see here riled more than once (a lot of that was my fault, but a lot was also due to her exercise programs…. Jumping, running, flying. That’s jumping to conclusions, running away with her thoughts, flying off the handle, he,he,he). Public embarrassment was a number one trigger. My mother was small, but when angered or embarrassed by us, she could actually (well visually) increase her proportions. She could ‘puff’ herself up and present a bolder, bigger version of herself to deal with the matter. Not to the level of a stone fish or ‘puffer fish’ but certainly the way a pigeon does. Well, the way a male pigeon puffs itself up to impress (as mentioned in blog 1^st June 2012). You know what I mean. However she was often upset when trying to do so. This often made her emotions get in the way of straight forward reasoning. But right now, she was acting emotionally and effectively. I was coping a running beating. “I’m sorry” I must have cried that out at least a dozen times. In between the several swipes and clouts. But it was fairly ineffective. What was effective was my mother’s fitness level. Fortunately for me, she was running out of ‘puff’.

There is definitely an advantage in being young. There is a certain amount of natural fitness that can allow you to survive an incident a little longer than an older person (unless they stay very fit). I was in just that position. My mother was tiring from smacking me. And as she stood puffing on the back lawn, I stopped just a little out of reach.

(Continued tomorrow)