While pondering our memories and reliving each and every one my sister Abby and I share, it gives me pause to imagine how we turned out so mentally healthy. The truth is always the best path, so I must say, we are champions of surviving such a mixed up mess of insanity. Otherwise known as our mother.
Since we didn’t pay much attention to her, her antics were summed up with the now infamous line, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” We went about our business of being little girls, attending school which was often our refuge and spending real quality time with our dad. The fact we were often disheveled never reflected poorly on us, but rather on Mother. My sister was more concerned about her appearance than I was, probably because she was older and heard the kids make nasty comments, mostly directed at me.
Honestly, I could have cared less. I had a rather “C’est La vie” attitude and often gave as good as I got. I was known to threaten kids with jail time (enforced by my lawyer Dad) and I seldom cried at the hands of verbal bullies. I guess I felt we had enough of that at home and since we paid little attention to the bullying done at the hands of Mother, I didn’t give in to their comments either.
Once in a while, I would tarry on my way to school and arrive fashionably late. The principal, Mr. Keyes, would call me into his office and proceed to interrogate me. Since I hated mean old Mrs. Jones, my horrible bitch of a first grade teacher, I thought my idea of showing up late was ingenious. I usually made up some wild tale of why I was late and the principal would press me for details. I figured that the longer I stalled, the less time I had to spend in first grade purgatory.
I took my own sweet time answering and often placed the blame at the feet of our mother. Since he had met her and knew how she operated, he had to be thinking about whether he should follow up with her. I think his inner dialogue went something like this:
Should I call the insane mother and listen to her shit, or should i just let little Lindy go to class?
Then I am quite sure he thought
Ain’t nobody got time for that!
Off I went to class where i again tarried in the cloakroom until I heard the shrill voice of Mrs. Hell To Pay. I entered the room and thought, how did I get so lucky to have a nut-case to deal with at home and another one to deal with at school? Truth is, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”