Cowabunga, dude!
That popular catchphrase burst from this mild-mannered eighth grader’s lips as he spotted a wave of water rolling toward him, shimmering under the kitchen lights like a runaway tide.
With my crutches under each arm and my leg encased in a white plaster cast — a turtle-shell trophy from my corrective leg surgery the previous Friday morning — I found myself sliding across the linoleum floor.
The artificial surf carried me straight into the chaos — the portable dishwasher’s disconnected hose, spewing water in all directions like a wild geyser.
I landed in a spectacular heap, my crutches scattering around me like an old-fashioned game of pick-up sticks.
And perched cheerfully on my chest, as though claiming victory over the mayhem, was 3-year-old Suzy Huppertz, my mother’s solitary babysitting charge, clapping her hands with delight under the makeshift fountain.
When the minister’s wife finally stumbled onto the tumultuous scene, she found what could only be described as hilarious and heartbreaking — a waterlogged teenager, a cheeky toddler and a small-scale disaster zone.
Calgon, take me away!
Shortly after the mother of four wrestled the unruly hose back onto the double bowl sink’s faucet, she wasted no time diving into damage control.
With the kitchen resembling a small pond, she dashed down the basement steps, her footsteps echoing in rapid succession.
Determined and muttering a quick “not again,” she grabbed a mop and bucket from the utility sink nestled beside the washer and dryer.
Armed with her cleaning tools, she prepared for the uphill battle of restoring order to the heart of the home, channeling her inner Wonder Woman as she tackled the chaos head-on.
“Suzy must’ve read my mind,” stated Mom, casting a weary yet amused glance at the toddler perched on my chest while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her expression softening as she took in the chaos that had unfolded around us.
“I’ve been meaning to give you a bath ever since you came home from Children’s Hospital last Friday afternoon,” she continued, her voice carrying a note of playful exasperation as I stood back on my feet. “But every time I think about it, there’s another crisis to deal with.”
Did you wash your nether regions and under those armpits like I asked you to yesterday?
Mom’s question cut through the chaos with the precision of a seasoned interrogator, her hands firmly planted on her hips as she surveyed the soggy battlefield before her.
“It totally slipped my mind,” noted this Absent-Minded Professor as he hung his head in shame.
I rest my case, and I’m pretty sure Miss Suzy Q agrees with me.
The little blue-eyed blonde held her nose, before shouting out, “Poo tinky!”
Out of the mouths of babes!
Mom?!
You march back up those stairs this instant and put on some deodorant.
Yes, ma’am.
“Needless to say,” remarked the dark-haired brunette, her tone firm yet tinged with weary resolve, “you will be getting a bath tonight before going to bed whether you like it or not.”
She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly as she continued, “Because I just changed your bed sheet earlier this morning, and I am not about to do it again.”
“Besides, if you don’t wash that stink off of you, your buddies — Magsy and Robbie — won’t want to spend the night on the pullout sofa with you tomorrow evening,” she added, shaking her head as though the thought itself was too much to bear. “Trust me, even your deodorant’s going to need backup for this job.”
Ever since the tall, slender woman stopped cleaning the church next-door to our humble abode at the end of the previous year, she had been searching for other ways to help boost my father’s meager income as the shepherd of the local congregation on the north side of town.
That’s when Jackie Streckeisen — a seasoned Sunday school teacher and faithful adherent at Ellwood City Assembly of God — approached her with the idea of babysitting for her sister-in-law’s youngest child, a lovable little girl who was not yet ready for preschool.
“Would you be interested in watching my niece, Suzy?” Jackie asked, her voice tinged with optimism. “Mary Ann Huppertz, Dick’s sister, is eager to return to work as a receptionist at a local doctor’s office; and she’s been looking high and low for suitable daycare but hasn’t found the right fit.”
I immediately thought of you — you’d be wonderful for this.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching Mom, it’s that she always seems to find a way — even when the timing couldn’t be worse.
With my youngest sister, Michele, finally started full-day kindergarten back in the fall, you’d think she’d take a moment to catch her breath. But instead, she embraced a new adventure — babysitting Suzy, a lovable toddler with boundless energy.
Meanwhile, I was convalescing at home for a month after corrective leg surgery for my mild cerebral palsy. It was far from easy, balancing the demands of her babysitting duties with the chaos of my recovery.
Yet somehow, Mom never wavered.
She tackled each challenge with the grit of a superhero and the warmth of someone who truly cared – proving time and again that there’s no obstacle too daunting for her to overcome.
After the kitchen flood debacle — a scene straight from a 1980s sitcom — an early lunch in the dining room was a welcome reprieve.
Trudging back up the enclosed L-shaped staircase with a pair of crutches and one leg in a cast, eager to catch Bob Barker on “The Price is Right,” I found Suzy already curled up on my brother’s bed next to the 13-inch, black-and-white television set.
Clutching a blanket tightly, the little lass was breathing soft and rhythmic; and she was fast asleep despite my lingering post-hospital odor as the first round of contestants bid on the first item of the iconic game show.
When Mom came up to put Suzy down for her nap, she took one look at the toddler snuggled against me and smirked. “I guess she didn’t mind your stink after you put on deodorant,” she quipped, shaking her head in bemusement.
But you’re still taking that bath tonight — no ifs, ands, or buts.
Her cheeky remark echoed as I grinned, knowing full well that Mom’s no-nonsense approach was just another testament to her determination and love.