The Great Tapioca Pudding Incident

        Sometimes you just have to laugh.  Laugh at yourself, laugh at life and acknowledge the absurd.  My mother and I had one of those moments.  It happened over 48 years ago, but it is as real to me today, as if it were only yesterday...

       Here is a little backstory:  My mom suffered from many health issues stemming from car accidents she had been in throughout her life.  And things became even worse, after she and I were rear-ended by a drunk driver in 1976.  We were stopped at a red light and the car driven by a 16 year old drunk driver came over a small hill and hit into the back of our car at about 60 miles per hour.  

      It was miraculous that the young man was able walk away from the crash unscathed.  But the impact to our car was horrific. The only memories I have of that moment of impact, are the loud screech of tires, and my body flailing around the car , as what seemed to be lights flashed around me.  While I was banged up, my Mom was severely injured and her health would never be the same afterwards, and her condition slowly deteriorated over the next 20 years.  

      I was only 13 years old when it happened and Mom had just turned 50.  I had to grow up quickly.  The accident was for a long time a defining moment in my life.  Today I say it was pivotal.  I have lived so many lives since then, the little girl that I was feels very far removed from the woman I am today at 63

      Yet, that girl and all the experiences she had, helped to form me into the woman I became.   I think that we all go through that in one way or another.  And while it may sound a little dramatic it is still true:  I was one person when I entered the car that night, and I became another after the crash.  Life as I knew it changed in the space of a heartbeat and my childhood was effectively over.

     I think my mother felt very much the same way, but what trouper she was.  She never gave up.  She taught me how to cook and care for the home from her bed.  What a challenge that must have been for her, yet she was so very, very patient, even though she was in terrible pain.  We were an effective team as I became her legs and hands.

      Even today after all these years I still think sometimes that I can hear her voice calling to me as I am cooking. "Turn up the fire on chicken baby and add some more pepper...turn down the oven or the corn bread is going to burn!"

     But once in awhile, frustration would creep in.  One day she asked me to make her some tapioca pudding.  

      Instead of buying the easy to make Jello brand tapioca, which was her favorite, my father had misunderstood and bought a box of plain tapioca.

     I remember standing there at the stove a bit confused and reading the new directions.  She called from her bed: "How much tapioca are you putting in?" 

"It says three tablespoons.".  

"That's not enough!" She shouted back.  

"But that's what it says".  

"I'm telling you that's not enough, you are going to need at least a 1/2 cup".  

"Mama, I think that's too much."

      She was still partially paralyzed at that time on her left side, and was recuperating from a painful and difficult neck fusion surgery and several broken vertebrae in her back.

       Mom pulled herself out of bed with great difficulty and hobbled into the kitchen with her walker.  I could see the terrible look of pain and frustration written on her face.  Even as a young teen I knew she wasn't mad at me, but at the situation and the feeling of helplessness at not being able to do a simple thing like make pudding.  It was everything combined, and it made her  momentarily "snap". 

"Just give it to me honey, give me the spoon, I'll show you how to do it."  She exclaimed, frantically taking the pan and spoon out of my hands.

"But Mama, this is a new kind..." I started.

"Just let me do it the way I want to!"  She cried, as she measured out a cup of tapioca and threw it into the pan.  

     I sat back in the kitchen chair and watched her stir and stir, growing weaker and leaning more heavily upon her walker as each minute ticked by.

     Suddenly the tapioca began to thicken and boil and it rose to the top of the pan and bubbled over in an endless volcano of pudding, covering the stove top and then spilling on to the floor.  I reached over her (she was only 4ft. 8 inches tall) and turned the fire off and grabbed hold of the pot.  As I took it to the sink it continued to bubble over, making a puddle on the floor, and sticking to the cupboards.  

     It reminded me of a classic "I Love Lucy" episode.   Mom collapsed into a chair and doubled over with laughter.  Coming back over to her, my stockinged feet slipped on the tapioca and I fell flat on my rear on the sticky linoleum floor.  As I tried to get up I grabbed onto the kitchen towel rack.  My feet continuing to slip out from under me as I attempted to regain my balance.  We both had tapioca pudding stuck in our hair and on our clothes. 

      We laughed and laughed until we cried.  I went over and kissed the top of her head, as she wiped the tears from her eyes.  

"Well baby, you were right." She smiled meekly.

"Yes I was." 

"Yes, you were..."  She got up on her walker and started to drag herself back to bed.  

Then she looked over her shoulders mischievously, and smiled, "Well, you better clean it up!"

And I was happy to.  

      Sometimes that is just what chronic pain does to us.  Our frustrations build and build until we get angry or stubborn.  Keeping our sense of humor in such moments, and knowing when to laugh at ourselves and not take ourselves too seriously, is a great mark of character and strength.  I learned so much from my dear mother's experience about what to do and what not to do.  She taught me how to endure.  She never gave up no matter.

      In retrospect it could have been a traumatic experience for both of us, but Mom and I laughed about this incident for years and it only brought us closer.  I have always realized how fortunate we were to have my Mom for another 20 years after the accident.  Even though there were times that I know she wished she could die, she never gave up.  Not once, and that has made all the difference, to my brother and I, now that we are entering the time of life when health becomes more of a challenge.  Mom has been gone now for 30 years but this "Great Tapioca Incident" is still an inside joke that I treasure.