I Beg Your Pardon
I’ve been thinking about all the Presidential pardons being handed out this week and, like Joe Exotic, wondering how to get one. For jabbing a pencil point in Bonnie C’s head in first grade. For pretending I was adopted (my poor mother!). For locking my little brother out of the house while my boyfriend visited when I was supposed to be babysitting. For eloping on a Greyhound Bus (my poor mother!). For bottled water, Ziplocks and full-fat lattes. For being a mother who would rather read a book than play Candyland.
For that period in the 70s when I lost my mind and my bra. For having a subscription to People Magazine one year. For being a Kraft Macaroni and Cheese mother.
For schadenfreude, so much schadenfreude. For sleeping in my clothes this year. Occasionally. (Okay, more than occasionally, but they look like pajamas!) For lying about my weight on just about every questionnaire I’ve ever filled out. For being a mother who has read closed-captioning on TV while talking to her kids on the phone. (Just a couple of times!) Mea culpa, okay? Since I didn’t conspire to subvert democracy or have my brother-in-law set up with a prostitute in order to record some revenge porn and show it to his wife (those classy Kushners!), it looks like I’ll have to obtain absolution the old-fashioned way. By hearing about it from my kids a few hundred times until I’ve obtained their (conditional) pardon and promised to turn off the TV whenever they call. After all, isn’t that what families are for? Someone should tell Jared’s father.
Nikki Hardin is a writer of stories, musings, and memories. Her poetry has been published in Riverteeth Journal. She was the founder and publisher of skirt!, a monthly women’s magazine in Charleston, South Carolina. You can reach her at nikki@thedailynikki.com.