One woman's quest to remember her mother and find herself. I am who I am, in very large part, because I am my mother's daughter. But she never wrote down her stories like I wished she had. So, this is where I will tell my stories before it's too late.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Sugar Sugar

My mom often called me Sugar.

"Hey, Sug, come here and help me with this."

"I sure do you love you, Sugar."

But here's how it really went.

She said, "When you're really good, I call you Sugar Sugar. When you're just good, I call you Sugar. And when you're bad, I call you Sugar Shit."

As in, "Ooh, you little Sugar Shit," said through clenched teeth after I'd done something to annoy her. Like take this picture of her napping.

Late 1970's in NY.

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