What's it like having Mrs. Walters as a mom?

All three of our kids attended high school where their mother taught. And not just taught but thankfully served as one of the most popular teachers at the school. Kids love her. They love how she dresses. They love her energy. They love the crazy things she says in class. Last year, a student surreptitiously kept a list of these sayings on the back page of his biology notebook. At the end of the year, he typed the list up, printed it off, had a bunch of kids in the class sign the back, and gave Marty a copy of his curated list. A few standouts:

• This is my whole milk finger.
• If we've had enough of Cameron, we kill him, and we eat him!
• You know how on Fridays we do heroin and go to the rave? Well, I was thinking, what if we just drank some Hawaiian punch and ate some caramel corn instead.
• We're crawling inside of a testicle, Izzy. Not a toe.

Given this reputation, when students figure out that our kids are related to her, the most common question they get from their fellow students is, "What's it like having Mrs. Walters as a mom?"

Over the years, whenever we, the family, see Marty doing or saying some zany thing, one of the family on-lookers will say to the other family on-lookers, "So what's it like having Mrs. Walters for a mom?" Sometimes Marty will yell at us, saying there is nothing odd about what she is doing or wearing (or not wearing) or saying. I'll let you be the judge by sharing a few Mrs. Walters as a mom moments from 2023:

GREEN STICK
Marty found a green stick on the side of the road. It is four feet long and the width of your ring finger. It has a metal core that is sheathed with a green rubber. Not quite at the halfway mark, there is a slight bow where it got bent through some mishap. Most people passing such an object would either (a) simply walk by it or (b), as a community service, throw it in the next alley dumpster they passed. But Marty thought, hey, look at that nice green stick, picked it up, and brought it home. I first saw it propped in the corner of our kitchen. When I asked what it was, Marty simply said, "It's my green stick."

The next time I saw the green stick, Marty was standing on a chair in the living room, using it to clean cobwebs out of the chandelier. Weeks later, she was outside knocking down a wasp nest with it. A few times, I overheard Marty asking herself, "Where's my green stick?" It was then I knew that the green stick was a permanent part of our home's landscape.

LOAN
Some neighborhood friends stopped by the house and asked Alex to join them up to a neighborhood coffee shop. Alex found Marty, and the following conversation ensued.

ALEX
I'm going to walk up to the loop with Emma and Emmet.

MARTA
Ok. Have fun.

ALEX
Can I have $20?

MARTA
$20? What do you need $20 for?

ALEX
In case we go somewhere to eat.

MARTA
I will loan you $20, but I will not give you $20.

When I learned about this, I asked Marty why she wouldn't give the boy twenty bucks. Her response, "He's got a job. Why am I paying for him to go out with his friends?" For what it's worth, her position on shoes for her children is not wildly dissimilar.

PERFECT AMOUNT
When driving home from our annual Michigan camping trip, we stopped at a Ma and Pa burger stand and got a couple of shakes. There are wait-staff that will come to your car and take your order. A young woman came out pretty immediately, took our order, and then returned just minutes later with our shakes.

When she handed us the bill, Marty got out her purse and counted out the money, placing it on the girl's palm as she counted. First, the bills, then the coins. When Marty realized she had the exact amount of change, she gave a little woot and said, "Look at that, I had the exact amount!" Marty then closed her purse, did a little dance in her chair, and returned to her shake. The girl looked at her still-open hand for a beat before closing it, turning, and walking away. After the girl was gone, Anthony and I got on Marty, asking why/how she did not tip her. Crestfallen, Marty said, but I had the perfect amount seeming to think if you could produce the exact bill amount down to the cent, you were excused from tipping.

I'm compelled to share that we did make it right before leaving.

DANCE TEAM
If Marty has a regret from her youth it is that she was never on a dance team or cheer squad--she was instead a college-recruited field hockey player. When we are at sporting events, that wistful sparkle is always in her eye when she watches those performances. Sometimes she will say, "I would have been a great cheerleader/dancer." Having seen her dance, I can vouch for this. And she even knows half the cheers from my high school after only hearing them once (at a picnic where a friend's younger sibling was on the squad). Whenever Marty feels a situation needs some energy, she will channel her inner cheerleader and yell as if she where in a din-filled gymnasium, "What do you do to to a Lobo you meet? You get down on your knees, you can't pray on your feet!" Her body shimmies and swivels in all the right places. As kooky as it might sound, these unexpected spirit-injections never fail to rennovate small rooms or enclosed cars.

EXCELLENCE
The dinner table got into a conversation about the difficulties of relationships. Marty struggles with many of these situations because she feels that if people would just say what it is they want or expect, many issues could be resolved. She feels it is not that hard to do, and it makes life just that much easier to understand for those around you. She then said, "I'm not hard to live with—I just demand excellence at all times, and as long as you know that, which you all do, we will get on just fine." There was a long pause after her statement. I finally added to her comment, with a smile, "And as long as you are able to deliver excellence all day, every day, without fail, our time together will go swimmingly." Marty confessed that her proclomation sounded more harsh out loud than it did/does in her mind. I concluded the conversation by saying it was fortunate she married well ;-)

IN CONCLUSION
So what's it like having Mrs. Walters as a mom? It's clean, honest, occasionally embarrassing, loud, involves some dancing and occassional nudity. But more than anything it is wondrous and singular. In short, "She is the B-E-S-T, better than all of the R-E-S-T!" and we, children and husband alike, are infinitely thankful that we get her more than just one hour a day.