Mama Said, Mama Said.

For generations, mothers have shared their words of wisdom, passed them down.

You know, like, look both ways before you cross the street, brush your teeth, wait till your father gets home, and my personal favorite, you'll thank me one day.

You're about to join us on a journey of motherhood like no other.

We'll cross cultural barriers, span generations, women sharing stories of courage and triumph, heartache, redemption, love, and acceptance.

Reminding us all that in the end, what Mama said guides our inner soul.

You'll laugh, you'll cry, you will be inspired.

come on.

I wanted to be involved with Mama Said Mama Said because first of all, I miss and love my mama.

And it was another opportunity to speak about her and to speak about the love that I have for her and what the organization in itself as a whole is doing for the community.

The way that I process preparing for the show was I came up with a theme and I wanted to make sure that I put in my feelings into the story.

I wanted to write.

I'm a writer.

I write poetry.

I sing in a choir.

And I think that music, poetry, all of that is an awesome way to tell stories.

So I just thought about it, prayed about it.

I came up with my theme.

Mama and Papa gave Yoro the tools.

She used the tools and lessons to keep her mind set on stable.

Build your own table.

He's sweet, I know.

He's sweet, I know.

Storm clouds may rise, and strong winds may blow, but I'll tell the world wherever I go.

That I have found a savior, and he's sweet, I know.

My mama used to sing that.

She used to get it from my grandmother, and my grandmother gave it to me.

You see, I grew up on the North Side.

That's where it all started.

Dreams, goals, and aspirations grew within me, but they never departed.

You see, my environment was jaded, but that never fazed me.

Because what my parents instilled in me made my dreams go crazy.

Mama was my cheerleader, and papa, he gave me the tools.

Everything could be yours, they would say.

Just make sure you follow the rules.

Work hard, don't look back, and keep your mind set on stable.

And if you can't find yourself a seat, create your own table.

And I'll tell the world wherever I go that I have found a savior, and he's sweet I know.

Best advice my mom ever gave me was back, when I graduated from college and was going out to be the big world.

And she said, let's try to be friends instead of parents.

And, that was the best advice I ever got from my mom.

The best advice I ever got was from my grandmother, which is I'm beautiful and I'm capable.

My mom would always tell us, you cannot fix stupid.

Do not fall into the trap.

Perfect advice, I'll pass it along to my kids today.

Absolutely.

The best advice my mama ever gave me was pay attention and make sure you read the room at all times, making sure that surround yourself with good people.

You know what I'm saying?

My grandmother has always been such a huge part of my life.

She's helped shape who I am, how I have become a mother myself.

And so in my mind, she was who I wanted to honor the most with my story.

Generations of women in Louise's family have benefited from their royal heritage, Family legacy.

I am the product of generations of strong women.

When I was younger, my grandmother told me that we are Bon Bon, descended from the house of Habsburg.

I was royalty, I was special, and should always hold my head high.

Bon Bon was our excuse to be a little bit extra, to like the finer things, and to never settle for less.

I felt like a princess, and to her I was.

I remember calling my grandmother in tears during grade school because another kid was making fun of me.

My grandmother exclaimed, Always remember, you are Bon Bon.

Hold your head up high.

She reminded me of my worth and my strength.

As an adult, I realized that my grandmother used our Bon Bon heritage as a way to build me up, to instill my self worth and self esteem in a world that is tough on girls.

It was her way of teaching me that I am strong and to never let anyone walk all over me.

To have a voice, to be heard, and to carry myself with dignity.

Every challenge I faced, she was there to remind me of this.

I channeled every bit of that strength when my oldest daughter was born.

During labor, the baby and I were in distress.

I had an emergency C section, I crashed, and my body went into I had an amniotic fluid embolism and DIC.

I was bleeding to death.

My heart and my lungs were failing, and I couldn't breathe.

My full term baby wasn't breathing.

Her heart and her lungs were failing.

My baby girl went to the NICU with a machine breathing for her, and I went to ICU with sandbags on my stomach, a central line in my neck pumping blood and platelets and plasma back into my body, and a machine breathing for me.

The bonbon blood flowed strong in my daughter.

She fought hard.

Every setback, every time I conquered a hurdle just to take two steps backwards, every time I just wanted to let my body give up, I could hear my grandmother's voice.

We survived something that most do not.

We're walking miracles.

Years later, my grandmother had a medical emergency.

It left her body weak and her mind impaired.

She didn't always recognize me when I visited.

She went to a skilled nursing facility and then was discharged into the care of home nurses and various visiting therapists.

As she struggled to make her way across the room during a physical therapy session, slumped over a walker, my young daughter walked over to her and put her hands on the walker.

She tilted her head to make eye contact with my grandma and said, Put your head up, grandma.

Remember, you're bonbon.

Keep going, grandma.

You can do it.

You're bonbon.

She repeated this mantra to my grandmother.

She had learned at a young age what it meant to be Bon Bon, and in a full circle moment, she reminded my grandmother of who she was.

My grandmother is one tough woman, and she recovered.

Even now, as Parkinson's ravages her abilities and her mind, she continues to fight and to hold her head high.

My grandmother taught me how to raise our next generation of fierce women.

I teach my girls about the blood that flows in their veins.

I teach them of their self worth and their strength.

I teach them to have a voice, an opinion, and to be heard.

Bon bons are never anyone's doormat.

In a world that constantly tells them that they are not good enough, I want them to know who they are, where they come from, and how special they truly are.

I may occasionally wear a crown to dinner and my girls often do, but we are no Disney princesses.

We are Bon Bon from the House of Habsburg and we hold our heads high.

The best advice my mom ever gave me was to just let go.

Yeah.

Let it go.

Just let it go.

Yeah.

And to be myself.

Let it go and just be myself.

That's the best advice.

Best advice my mom ever gave me was to leave crazy girls alone.

The best advice my mama ever gave me was, if they don't want you as much as you want them, it was not meant to be.

Oh, my best advice that she ever gave me was, when you start a new job, just keep to yourself and take care of your own business.

Stay out of other people's business.

I wanted to write this story because it's a big part of my story.

It's a big part of my heart that I wanted to share with the world.

It's a story about love and family redefined.

That no matter how much time and effort that we give to our hopes and dreams and desires, sometimes it doesn't happen, but that nothing's wasted and that there's still beauty in the brokenness.

Jessica spent years capturing love and joy through her lens.

And then one day, special subject grabbed a hold of her heart, the dress.

Every day for four years, I saw it hanging in my bedroom closet.

A daily reminder of hope, a dream of a new life, waiting to be taken far away to wrap the most precious gift.

It's a couple yards of flowery fabric that was sewn together into a beautiful little dress, specifically chosen off a rack to bring home a little girl to call my own.

I thought my family was complete within two incredible boys under my belt.

And although people often ask if I want to bring home children that I meet on my photojournalism trips all over the world, adoption was never really front of mind until that one trip thirteen years ago to Robin's Nest children's home.

It's nestled on the mountaintop in Jamaica.

My love for meeting people not like myself and giving a voice to the voices has taken me on over 40 international service trips.

From the bush in Uganda to historical buildings in Hungary, from the desert in Jordan to the jungle in Costa Rica, from the dirt streets in Haiti to the vibrant slums in India and beyond.

But this trip, this one was different.

I've visited orphanages and schools and villages around the globe.

So lively environments with never ending youthful noise and Velcro children were not new to me.

But an 18 old little girl named Moesha continually gravitated towards me throughout the week.

I welcomed her attention and soon found myself looking for her each day.

There was something different about this one.

Her smile, her laugh, her tenacity.

Even at such a young age, visitors and strangers would notice her uniqueness.

But this time, she noticed me.

I dreamed of her when I got home and believed it to be a sign to inquire about adoption.

There seemed to be little risk.

Right?

I mean, not everyone gets accepted, and it's a long process.

Not this time.

We were quickly approved every step of the way, but were reprimanded when we asked to be with Moe.

In four years, I visited 14 times, became the president of the board of the children's home, continued to provide photojournalism, and of course, saw Mo grow up in front of my eyes.

I helped her learn her ABCs, applauded her at swim lessons, proudly attended her preschool graduation, and sent photo reminders of my commitment to her to the child development agency.

Nearly all the boxes were checked in both countries.

All the agency had to do was say yes.

Yes to the dress.

But we learned Moe's birth mom was never asked to sign release documents at the hospital when she was born.

Even after the agency threatened to take her to court years later, she refused.

So we decided to pull out of the stagnant process, but I still visited secretly hoping that maybe one day things would change.

Moe would soon grow out of the dress, so I brought it with me on a visit and hung it in her cubby.

Then on one of my randomly scheduled trips, the director shared that Moe had been paired up with a Jamaican foster family and was being picked up that weekend.

As they packed her items, they asked her to change into something special to greet this temporary mom and dad.

Mo's hair was perfectly braided and adorned with matching bows that coordinated with her outfit.

When she walked into the room, the sight took my breath away.

She chose the dress.

The dress I planned to bring her home with me, but now I was sending her off all dressed up to be with someone else.

The dress was stitched together in a factory, specially chosen by me.

But now, someone else was chosen to take Moesha home.

The irony.

The tears were endless and the morning was real.

I like to think she dreams of the woman who rocked her to sleep, caught her in the pool and giggled with her as we sang her favorite Elmo song.

Perhaps I was only meant to provide extra love during that period of her life.

A love that created a foundation so she could succeed and grow with confidence.

A love that's buried inside her heart and will bring her security during her adolescence, transforming into a fullness through adulthood.

Motherhood is deeper than blood, has more breath than physical scars, and transcends time.

I am at peace knowing that nothing is wasted, Not a single hair in that little girl's head, not a single tear shed, not a single thread in the dress.

The best advice my mom ever gave me was that you may not know the consequences of what you did at the moment, but you will eventually find out.

The best advice my mother ever gave me was to always remember that I am not better than anyone else, but also no one else is better than me.

So we're all equal.

The best advice my mom ever gave me was always just add a little oil, a little salt to your food.

The best advice my mom ever gave me is to not say hate or can't.

If you keep saying those words, then it will come true.

Words hold power.

The producers asked me to sing a song, write a song for the show, which I did reluctantly because I don't typically write songs for other people.

I just write for myself.

It's my therapy.

And so I wasn't sure that I could pull it off, but I did write a song and the producers liked it.

And so they told me that I will be in the show for the rest of my life.

Merrimack Valley Girl sings the sweet song of a mother's love in the hopes that it is, well, good enough.

Here's her song now, good enough.

I didn't know you had a boyfriend you'd sneak out and see.

And you didn't know I could pick the lock on your diary.

I know I'm not great.

I've made some mistakes that I am not proud I just hope and pray I was good enough.

One time at church I did not think to bring your diaper bag.

The mess and smell made everyone, including Jesus, gag.

And I never cleaned the oven of built up grease and grime.

The smoke detector let you know when it was dinner time.

But I sang lullabies to you as a baby.

I sang karaoke to you in high school, though you hid your face.

We sing carols around the piano at Christmas time, and one day I will sing, I'll fly away.

You loved to build a snowman, but that frustrated me.

Two full hours of bundling up, and then you'd have to pee.

In eighth grade, you loved spring break at the ocean in flip flops until the day that big wave untied my swimsuit top.

Why don't you come in and swim, honey?

But I sang lullabies to you as a baby.

I sang karaoke to you in high school, though you hid your face.

We sing carols around the piano Christmas time, and one day I will sing I'll Fly Away.

I regret that I gave you Froot Loops for every morning meal.

I admit that's my bad.

I thought the fruit was real.

I know I'm not great.

I've made some mistakes that I am not proud of.

I just hope and pray I was good enough.

I just hope my love was good enough.

The best advice my mom ever gave me is I know you could spend $500 on any date, but you only know if it's real if you go Dutch.

The best advice my mama ever gave me was to not be like her, but to be better than her.

The best advice my mama ever gave me was you are always enough in every situation.

The best advice my mother, Liz Tate, ever gave me was everybody is not going to be your friend.

Everybody just is not going to like you.

So you have to be okay with that.

I think one of the reasons I wanted to tell my story is that I have a unique situation in reaching out to birth parents who didn't want to be contacted or found, and I wasn't expecting that.

Everyone says to prepare for it, I did, it happened, and I wasn't quite prepared, and I think that's a unique situation.

I'm secretly hoping maybe they hear this story and they'll reconsider their position and maybe want to actually make contact with me.

And again, if they don't, it's okay.

That's in my story.

But it felt like a way to get out into the universe the effects of this unique situation, at least as it's had on me.

Sometimes the truth can be healing, sometimes painful, and sometimes just hard to understand.

Meet Carolyn with Mother and Child Reunion.

Most adoptions are rooted in secrets.

Mine certainly was.

My birth parents were 19, just finishing their freshman year of college, when my mother accidentally became pregnant with me.

They used the summer between their freshman and sophomore year to figure out what to do.

Against their family's wishes, they made a plan to place me for adoption with Catholic Charities.

My mother then earned her undergraduate degree on time, and immediately after graduating, she went on to earn a master's degree from Harvard.

I was placed in foster care for the first three months of my life.

I have no idea where I was, and Catholic Charities won't tell me.

I was adopted by a couple who very much wanted a baby, but had struggled with infertility.

My adoptive parents were kind and hardworking.

My father, had a PhD from Brown University and was a professor.

My mother worked at the local GE plant.

A few months after they brought me home, my adoptive mother was diagnosed with leukemia.

She died just two years later, a month before I turned three.

That same year, my father met a widow in her 30s with three young boys.

They were married just before I turned four.

Growing up, we never used the word stepfamily, and we made jokes about being the real life Brady bunch.

My parents talked openly with me about being adopted.

I went to college and then moved here to St.

Louis to complete my PhD in cognitive science at Washington University.

I met my husband in grad school and was incredibly lucky to stay on as a faculty member at WashU where I am today.

My husband and I have two amazing teenagers, the oldest who will be going to college in the fall.

But I've always wondered about my roots.

And especially after I became a mother, something became incredibly urgent about the need to know and understand.

Through ancestry and 23andMe, I was shocked to find out that after college, my biological parents had married, and they had also had two more children.

So I have a full biological brother and sister.

I can't even explain how it felt when I saw two people who looked just like me after a quick Google search.

I wrote my birth parents a cautious and hopeful letter.

I asked if they wanted to know me and their grandchildren, and I said I'd always wondered about them, that I'd wondered what their parents were like, what my extended family was like.

And I told them I knew it must be stressful, maybe even traumatic to hear from me after forty five years.

It took three months, but they wrote back.

My mother's first words were, we are strangers.

She then went on to explain that the knowledge of my existence would be too upsetting for fragile family members, including my sister.

And she said she owed me no explanation beyond that.

She said she understood if I was disappointed, but it was for the best we never meet.

She herself had been adopted, and her experience was good.

So it helped her in deciding to place me for adoption.

She appreciated in advance me agreeing to never contact anyone in the family, and she cheerfully wished me the best with my family.

I was devastated.

That was four years ago, and I think it's likely that I will never meet my biological brother and sister.

Apparently, he knows about me, but she does not.

I am respecting my birth mother's wish for no contact and giving her grace and space without fully understanding why it has to be this way.

Perhaps forty five years of carrying a secret that big is just too much.

So I will keep her secret because we are strangers, but also because she's my mother.

The best advice that my mom ever gave me was to pay your bills on time.

Oh, the best advice my mom ever gave me was don't listen to a man.

Oh my god.

The best advice my mama gave me with her little accent, and I did not take it because I married a good looking man.

She said a man is not a picture to hang on the wall.

You'll find a man that's a hard worker.

And I totally ignored it.

And now I'm single.

So there you go.

Thanks mom.

Should have listened.

Hi, my name is Rachel McShane.

I am 45 years old, and I am a mom to two quick kids, a 12 year old boy and a 15 year old girl.

I am a native St.

Louisan, born and raised here.

And like many St.

Louisans, I left town after I finished high school thinking I will never come back.

No interest.

And yet somehow, even though I went to one coast for undergraduate school and the other coast for graduate school, I met a hometown boy in between and somehow ended up back here for which I'm actually very thankful.

I love my life here.

Shedding light on personal and devastating stories doesn't come easy.

The courage that Rachel shows is that of a warrior.

The knives.

When they tell you it's time to hide the knives, you know there is no going back.

You know somewhere it all went sideways, and a million tears cannot correct a child who wishes she would not wake up.

When they tell you it's high time to hide the knives, you question everything, believing the pain she feels is yours, and your failure to correct sorrow has amplified sorrow in that which is most precious.

When they tell you it's time to hide the knives, and for dinner, you can't even recall where to find the tools to chop broccoli, you know that that world is no longer your world.

When they tell you it's time to hide the knives, you can do no more than breathe deeply and send a silent prayer to whoever is listening.

Know that she's beautiful in all the ways.

Know that she's loved.

Know that the future could be so bright if only she could see the light.

When they tell you it's time to hide the knives, to hide the medicine, to hide the myriad temptations she has to end her pain, you know, you know, you know, there is no prayer powerful enough that God will not take her.

You know.

You know.

You know.

Unpacking this lunchbox is an act of consecration, and every speck of leftover pretzel will haunt you with pounds not gained and a backpack backpack that will sit empty as you mourn the fact that hiding knives is never enough.

My daughter is okay now, doing quite well, in fact.

She's in high school and gets excellent grades and is in choir and theater.

It can get better.

Please know there's so many resources available to help you and your kids.

Don't try to fix it all on your own.

Some kids need professional help to heal.

And I know firsthand how overwhelming it can be to try to find providers and to figure out how to pay for it all.

But you have to hold on to hope through all of it.

Hold on to the love that connects you.

And know that in the end, it was never about you.

You did not fail.

You did not break faith with your oath to love unconditionally.

You simply orbited grief in another human as a moon orbits a planet.

You may shape those tides, but you can never tame them.

You can do no more than ride the waves and hold tight to this one essential truth.

You are not alone.

The best advice my mama ever gave me was close your mouth and use your ears.

The best advice my mom ever gave me was to get your education.

Nobody can take it away.

The best advice my mother ever gave me is just to lead with love and empathy because you never know what someone is going through.

And a kind word or a kind gesture can make the person's day or make mean the world to somebody.

So always lead with love and kindness.

I wanted my mom to be able to see what I have been able to take from her.

Like, I wanted her to actually be able to experience through my writing and my performance what she gave to me.

I wanted her to know, like, I heard her.

I heard her tell me those stories about her mom, and I heard her tell me why she mothered me the way she did, because this is how she was mothered.

And I wanted her to hear that.

And so that was what came out in my writing.

That was like, yes.

As teenagers, we think our mothers are the worst.

But then age gives us perspective and a chance to change our minds.

Here's Rose with absolutely perfect.

I have the most amazing mother.

She is absolutely perfect for me.

My mom is a very smart lady, but she's very humble, so it's not always so obvious.

I've seen the depth of effort and intention that she's put into being a mom.

Since before she had conceived to after my brother and I were both out of the house, she's loved us so well.

You see, my mom also had a wonderful mom, my grandmommy.

But my mom saw a few ways that she could improve upon her mother's mothering style.

Grandmommy placed a lot of importance on how my mom looked, how she dressed, how she presented, and what other people thought about my mom were all very important to my grandmommy.

When I was a little girl, we had friends who would call their daughters pretty girl as a cooing affirmation, but not my mom.

She called me sweet girl to teach me that what is on the inside is more important than what is on the outside.

When I went to kindergarten, my mom would offer me dresses to wear to school.

I thought they were absolutely yucky.

She might have been disappointed.

I mean, who doesn't want to dress their daughter up in a cute little dress?

But she didn't fight me.

She continued to let me pick out my own clothes.

As I got older, she never protested when I did my own hair, even if it meant that I had five ponytails sticking out of my head.

And when I would go to middle school with a different color eyeshadow on each eye, way too much blush and not my color lipstick, she didn't bat an eye.

You see, my mom knew long before I did how fiercely independent her daughter is, and she never tried to stifle me.

Through all the heartbreaks, struggle, and drama this brought into my, and so her, life, she didn't criticize, condemn, or complain.

Except one time, my freshman year of high school, I let my tongue loose with her like I never had before and never have since.

She just stared me down for a long moment, then calmly said, you're being a bitch.

My mom's not perfect.

She has her shadow, her weaknesses, her faults.

She sees them, and she knows that I see them too.

I'm sure that's partially why she knows I'll be such a wonderful mother one day.

She knows that I'll improve upon her style.

My mom's not a perfect mother, and I won't be either.

But my mom's shown me just how close to perfect, imperfect can be.

My mom's not a perfect mother, and she's absolutely perfect for me.

This performance was a surprise for my mom who's with us today.

So happy Mother's Day, mom.

My best advice my mother ever gave me was treat people the way that you want to be treated.

Oh, the best advice my mother ever gave me was remember to take the trash out.

The best advice my mom ever gave me was if you can't fix it, do not worry about it.

The best advice my mother ever gave me is to treat others the way you would want to be treated.

Being a mother now, I really respect that.

Everybody should be treated equally because you don't know everyone's story.

First time moms think they have so much to worry about, and they do.

Jessica's baby Nova is truly the brightest star, a bright light.

As a first time mom, you want everything to be perfect.

You hear people all the time say, I don't care if it's a boy or girl as long as my baby is healthy.

You know that sweet moment when a mother counts the 10 fingers and 10 toes of her just born baby?

But what happens when you find out that your precious baby is not going to be healthy?

Let me just tell you from experience that you won't be able to count all the worries you will have once your brand new baby is born.

There is nothing that can prepare you for that.

I was twenty one weeks along when I found out not only was I having a baby girl, but I was having a baby girl that had spina bifida, and that changed everything for my husband and I. Now I didn't just have the normal worries that every new mother has.

I also had a million more other worries to add to that.

My baby girl was born 06/01/2021 and had to have spinal surgery the day after she was born.

Having a tiny newborn weighing only seven pounds, five ounces, and twenty inches long in a huge Operating Room, there was no way new parents can prepare for that.

In the very first several months of our beautiful Nova's life, we met with so many specialists and surgeons.

One of the toughest decisions we had to make as a first time parents was deciding the best course of action to treat the fluid that was on her brain, one of the many medical conditions that come with spina bifida.

This is usually treated with a shunt.

However, her neurosurgeon told us that we were a candidate for a shuntless procedure, but the procedure was very invasive, very scary, and very long.

This surgery was to reduce the fluid in her tiny brain to elevate the pressure, and if it wasn't successful, a shunt would then be placed.

We really didn't know what to do, but after much thought, research, talking to our family and medical professionals, and a lot of prayer, we made the decision to do the surgery that the doctors told us that was best for our brand new baby.

Nova was only six weeks old when she underwent the four hour surgery.

She was such a fighter and beat all the odds.

In her first two years of life, she's had to go through, or should I say, we all had to go through five more surgeries.

We could not be happier with the choices we have made.

Our beautiful, sweet, happy toddler still receives follow-up care from her neurologist along with many other specialists, but she's absolutely thriving.

Yes, I know that there will probably be many more medical decisions we will have to make throughout her life, but now we are so much more prepared.

I cannot explain how proud her dad and I are of the progress Nova has made in her short three years.

She is truly a miracle.

By the way, if you don't know the origin of our daughter's name, I'd love to explain it to you.

A Nova is a sudden bright light that gradually settles into the night sky.

Our Nova has settled into our family, and she's certainly the light of our lives.

We wouldn't have her any other way, and now I have to get her ready for a bowling party with her friends.

Best advice my mama gave me was know the difference between friends and associates.

I learned that at five years old.

It helped me from being just really sad about people coming in and out of your lives and knowing who's in your place, you know, in your life.

That's helped along along the way.

Best advice my mom ever gave me, never show up to a party empty handed.

The best advice my mom ever gave me is to never let anyone else define what success is to you.

So I will basically seize any opportunity I have to embarrass my children.

They have put me through so much when they were born and they might have only been a few weeks old, but I feel like it was deliberate and mean.

And I mean, fourteen years later, I still haven't recovered.

You just wait, one day you'll have kids, you'll know exactly how I feel, she said.

Hannah knows now.

And it's exactly what her mama said, payback's a bitch.

I laid in the delivery Room, my new daughter, pink, fresh, and peaceful in my arms.

My parents arrived in the middle of the night and my mom, grinning from ear to ear, came over to my hospital bed.

You didn't have to drive up here.

It's like three hours, I said sleepily.

Oh, honey, this is a joyous occasion for your father and me.

Nothing could have kept us away from telling you in person that payback is a bitch, sucker.

With that, she snapped a picture, gave my dad a high five, and laid rubber out of the parking lot.

Growing up, my family didn't have a lot of extra money, but one year, we splurged and went on a vacation.

Now, many people would say that camping in the boondocks in the August isn't a vacation, and those people are what I like to call right.

But the worst part of the vacation wasn't the insufferable mosquitoes, the mind numbing boredom, or even trying to leverage my youth to hitchhike a ride home with random strangers.

No.

The worst part of the vacation was the trip down and back.

Of course, my entire family couldn't all squeeze into the cab of my dad's pickup truck, so my two sisters and I had to ride in the back of a truck for two hours.

To make matters worse, before we pulled out of the driveway, my mom tossed an empty coffee can at us and said, here girls, in case you need to use the bathroom.

My mom must have noticed the horrified look on my face because she said, oh, lighten up.

Just watch out for the perverts and everything will be fine.

If you've never ridden in the back of a truck, let me explain what it's like.

First, close your eyes, then take a deep breath.

Now, imagine that you've died and gone to hell.

And that pretty much covers what riding in the back of a truck is like.

I remember looking around as the normal cars blew past us, the children wide eyed and pressing their noses against the glass to get a look at some real life wild hillbilly girls.

I tried to hide while my sisters roared with laughter as they threw coffee cans full of their own hot steaming urine onto the windshields of passing cars.

Humiliated, I decided then and there that I was going to do things very differently when I finally moved out, got married, and had some kids of my own.

And I knew I had to act fast because as an 11 year old girl living in the Ozarks, the odds were in my favor of at least one of those three things happening by the end of my sixth grade year.

Fortunately, time was on my side, so I spent over twenty years envisioning the perfect life I would have with my daughters.

We'd spend our days strolling through museums, swapping gossip magazines as we got our toes done, taking long naps, and at the end of the day, sit around the fire talking about all the boys we had crushes on.

My girls are now 13, 14, and 15, and in short, in no way living up to my perfect symbiotic best friends forever parenting fantasy.

Last week before school, one daughter did an about face marching back upstairs to change her entire outfit after I told her she looked cute.

Another one asked me not to turn around to check my blind spot when her friends were in the car.

The other one burst into literal tears when I told her I had volunteered to speak at her school's career day.

I interpreted them as tears of joy joy.

How lucky were she and her classmates to get a sneak peek into the thrill a minute world of ghost writing op eds for EdTech trade publications.

As I stood in the classroom waiting for the students to file in, I heard her voice outside in the hallway talking with her friends.

I knew she would be thrilled to see me, I stepped out, waved and yelled, hi, best friend.

I then physically witnessed her soul leave her body.

I recognize the look on her face as the same one I gave my mom that day when she tossed me the coffee can.

But how is it that my kids are as embarrassed of me as I was of my mom?

I can do a thirty second keg stand.

I can play over 20 songs in my banjo, including crowd favorite, boil them cabbage down, which by the way, I've repeatedly offered to play at their slumber parties.

In 1999, I won the MC Hammer dance contest at Tony Bono's in Mid Rivers Mall.

Is it just an unspoken rule that as moms our kids are destined to find us embarrassing?

From coffee cans to career days, are teenagers genetically programmed to shun the hands that sheens them?

If I have learned anything as a mom of teenagers, it is imperative to continue to remind ourselves, it's not us, it's them, and walk with our heads held high.

Yes.

Walk with our heads held high straight to the front row of their volleyball game with a giant foam finger and fresh set of Billy Bob teeth in our purse ready to go at a moment's notice.

Just as a general reminder that moms will always have the upper hand and payback is indeed a bitch.

The mama said family is just so fun.

Think you should absolutely submit your story.

The beauty about being a part of Mama Said is that it grows your community.

We would hope that people would start to come together and sit at the table and be a part of so they better understand that, and I know it's an old adage that people say over and over again, but we really are more alike than we are different.

Send your story in, even if it's just the act of writing it for yourself.

Absolutely do it because you never know.

There's so many different levels to motherhood and everything.

Listening to everyone's story, you find out that you're not alone and you have common ground in whether you find ways to be humorous about that or sad about that.

It's super relatable and supportive.

I'd say the best advice my mom ever gave me was to party on.

My best advice my mom ever gave me was listen to her.

Best advice my mom ever gave me was open a savings account.

My mom told me to be yourself and make a difference in this world.

You got this.

The best advice my mother ever gave me was wash your hands, which I promptly forgot.

Don't trust everyone.

Be careful who you put your trust in.

Yeah.

Always watch and pray.

I like that.

The best advice my mom ever gave me was to love yourself.

And I took that on throughout all my life.

No matter what has happened in my life, high lows, I love myself.

That was her.

That's what she told.