As a kid, I LOVED ice cream. Otter Pops and Popsicles were my favorite. I even remember a time when I heard the siren song of the ice cream truck trilling through the air as it made its way down my block. Driven by the fear that the truck would pass by my house & I would miss out on the opportunity to get a cool treat with absolutely no nutritional value; I ran inside the house to try and find a way to feed my addiction. I looked everywhere for money and then I zeroed in on my piggy bank. My Hello Kitty plastic bank had a padlock on it. I couldn’t find the friggin key, so I used all the strength I could muster from my scrawny 6–year-old arms & ripped the lock off of that thing! I collected all my change, ran after the truck with my miniature Asian child legs & got my Popsicle, dammit!
I. Was. Victorious!!
And, as was the norm whenever I ate something from the ice cream truck, I got Strep throat right after. Whatever…it was totally worth it.
But I digress. This isn’t a story about the early warning signs of a girl’s inability to save money or an addiction to sugar. This is actually a story about a mother’s love for her child.
“How??” Well, we’ve pretty much established that I friggin LOVED Popsicles, right? Fantastic. Now for the next part of my story…
One day (I think I was about 7), I was going through my mom’s drawer in the bathroom & I saw a tubular object. This object was wrapped in that same white, shiny cellophane covering that also covered my beloved Popsicles!! (single serving though). Granted, this ‘Popsicle’ smelled faintly of baby powder and now that I think about it, funny how I completely disregarded that it wasn’t in the freezer. But for some reason, all that was registering was the crinkle of the white cellophane wrapper and my mind was yelling: “POPSICLE!!”
Upon this discovery, I had mixed emotions – part of me was going, “Heyyy…my mom had a Popsicle & she was holding out on me? WTF??” Another part of me was going, “SCORE!! POPSICLE TIME!!”
I paid more attention to the latter.
And as I’m about to unwrap this treat & kill it, my mom walks in.
I asked my mom, “Hey, can I have this?”
She looked horrified. She yelled, “NO!” and quickly yanked it out of my hand. I was hurt at the time…didn’t understand why my mom would deprive me of happiness & not allow me to partake in the icy delicious treat. Kind of felt like she was selfish for not sharing her the Popsicle with me too. (enter topic for therapy discussion here)
A few years later, when they taught Sex Ed in school and I learned more about my body, “becoming a woman,” and all that jazz, a light went off! “Ha Soooo!” ← this should be said in a wise Confucius voice.
Nothing says ‘love’ more than stopping your child from eating an unwrapped tampon.
Thanks, Mom! I love you too.
I'm a solar powered ethnic hybrid who resides in Los Angeles. I’ve spent the last decade working in publicity (corporate, talent/personal, TV), but secretly aspire to be a trophy wife who does philanthropic work…well, that and about 5"-6” taller. I dig laughing & making people laugh. I have a love/hate relationship with Tequila & Vodka. I find drag queens fascinating. My life can be best described as a 'dramedy,' which, I guess makes sense considering I'm named after a soap opera character. And most importantly, I love my mom and miss her every day.