This morning my mom and I spent quite awhile on the phone, gabbing away. It was one of those conversations where we laughed the whole time. My mom called to fawn over my new blog and to tell me what a fabulous writer I am. It was great to hear and perfect timing, too, because if she hadn't begun to fall all over herself about my blog in very short order, I was about to quit taking her calls. Moms just know, don't they?
Luckily, she opted against adoption and kept me until I was an able-bodied adult. Her decision was a fortunate one, too. Where would she be now if she hadn't had my wise counsel available to her for free all these years? Some people are just born lucky, I guess.
It's true that we, the bossy girls of the world, are often misunderstood. We represent the Lone Wolf, the True Maverick, the kind of genius blended with leadership that is often light years ahead of it's time. Sure, we pay a steep price for standing out like this, hot house orchids in a world full of daisies. At the end of the day every bossy little girl knows the real truth. That all of you (the whole entire world) would be absolutely lost without us. You need us. We also know that if you absolutely refuse to cooperate with our instructions, we WILL involve the Secretary of State. It's for your own good.
For some reason she felt compelled to remind me that I am very bossy and that I need to reel it in a bit. (She must have been having a stroke at that moment because...me? bossy? Utter nonsense! harumph!) See, she insists that my "bossy"(I call it can do) attitude has been there from the start. She reminded me of childhood incidents that often left her, as my parent, wondering if it was too late to put me up for adoption.
I couldn't help laughing to the point of tears when she reminded me that even as a young toddler I stood feet shoulder width apart, hands on hips. I was always at the ready should any situation need a leader. As it turns out, if I was in the area, I typically found that any situation was lacking in the leadership department. Thank the dear sweet lord in heaven because what would this earth do without me around to fix things for all of you?
It is precisely this approach to human relations, otherwise known as "my gift", that caused a frustrated school chum to stab me with the pocket knife I was insisting that he was NOT allowed to have at school. This was first grade.
"Knives are NOT allowed at school! I am going to T E L L on you!"
That's right. I literally spelled it out for people. My natural approach, the style that worked best for me then, was this. The best way to boss any simpleton around was by using small words, s p e l l e d o u t and spoken with a very loud voice. That way, even an idiot (like you) would see that I am always right in any situation.
I was not seriously harmed in the incident as the boy (he wouldn't be the last) simply wanted to get me to shut up. I'm sure he was stunned to discover that even stabbing wouldn't stop a tirade from moi. As the teachers took me away for a band aid and he for some downtime, I continued to shout over my shoulder,
"Now you did it! Now you reeeeaaaaaally did it! I am going to T E L L Henry Kissinger on you!"
I must have figured out early on that name dropping is a fairly effective form of intimidation and who could possibly be more intimidating than the Secretary of State for the Ford administration?
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| It's no wonder that my mom was smoking more than a pack-a-day of Salem Menthols at that time. |
Luckily, she opted against adoption and kept me until I was an able-bodied adult. Her decision was a fortunate one, too. Where would she be now if she hadn't had my wise counsel available to her for free all these years? Some people are just born lucky, I guess.
After hanging up the phone and wondering how it was I didn't end up in a series of unfortunate foster homes, my best friend called. Guess what? Her daughter, that throughly modern Millie, seems to have a little case of the bossies herself. Against everyone's better judgement, we love the fact that anyone who befriends this beautiful and fantastically brilliant girl, must do things her way. Yes, that's it. Her way. Don't get me wrong, the child understands compromise. Specifically she understands that YOU should be the one to do it.
Case in point, a couple years ago when Millie was in first grade herself, she sassed both of her parents so badly that she got sent to her room. A fate that rarely happens to her, so this was a huge blow to her ego. After spending quite some time in a furious huff, she put a full size blanket over her head and shuffled back into the entrance of the living room like a grievous woolen ghost, where her parents were sitting on the sofa. Sniffling with emotional pain safely from under her blanket, Millie told them,
"I'm ready for my apology now."
I know that Millie was stunned when her magnanimous offer was not only refused, it caused her to get right back into that hot water she so badly wanted out of. After explaining that they would not be apologizing to her but that she would be apologizing to them for having been so disrespectful, Millie was told to march right back to her room. Which she did.
If I remember correctly, that's the first time I was ever cc'd on a letter to Condolezza Rice.
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| This isn't a picture of Millie. It's a copy of the letter she sent to Condi Rice. |
It's true that we, the bossy girls of the world, are often misunderstood. We represent the Lone Wolf, the True Maverick, the kind of genius blended with leadership that is often light years ahead of it's time. Sure, we pay a steep price for standing out like this, hot house orchids in a world full of daisies. At the end of the day every bossy little girl knows the real truth. That all of you (the whole entire world) would be absolutely lost without us. You need us. We also know that if you absolutely refuse to cooperate with our instructions, we WILL involve the Secretary of State. It's for your own good.
Don't ever doubt it.
Your ever lovin',
Miss Pierce