• LAUNCH YOUR DREAM
  • BE A MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER
  • STARTING OVER MIDLIFE
  • HAPPINESS THROUGH ACTIVISM
  • TRAVEL THE WORLD
  • GET HEALTHY & FIT
  • BUILD SELF-CONFIDENCE
  • BRAVE LIVING
  • WRITE WITH US

8WomenDream

Dream Big Stories

  • HOME
  • ABOUT
  • CONNECT
You Are Here Home » WRITE WITH US » My Mother Tortured Grasshoppers

in WRITE WITH US

My Mother Tortured Grasshoppers

Last updated on April 1st, 2012 at 02:35 pm

My mother had thick, wavy red hair like Rita Hayworth and deeply tanned legs that went up to her neck.

She was kicked off the courts of the Golden Gate Tennis Club in 1966 for wearing men’s shorts to play. (Too distracting to other players.) She bathed in Joy perfume and wore red lipstick to go to the super market explaining that we could too run into Frank Sinatra.

“You never know!” she’d smile, wiping a just licked pinky finger along her penciled eyebrow.


I don’t miss my mother.

Our record for not speaking at one point was 13 years. That long silence followed her crashing my first wedding at the chapel in Yosemite National Park. (She flew in. The pilot: a new boyfriend.)

At the reception she drank enough champagne to necessitate her being carried out of the Ahwahnee Hotel www.yosemitepark.com by two tuxedoed waiters.

I still remember her little feet slicing the air just above the floor like Peter Pan heading for Never-Neverland.

Her mistake was not staying seated. When she stood up, the floor tipped her over.  My dad said sympathetically, “Jeez, whadya ‘spect? She was drinking like she had a hollow leg.”

The waiters deposited her on the curb outside.

Weddings; it’s where drunk happens.

All through my twenties she’d call me at work, crying, begging to know what she did to make me hate her so much.

I didn’t hate her.

The truth was I was afraid of contamination.

In my thirties I had a blessed revelation. If my mother were someone I worked with, or a next-door neighbor and I moved to another town, I’d never write or call.

I’d be relieved to get away from her.

As a child I existed in a household run by a mysterious woman holding her breath until I turned 18 and left. (My high school graduation present: red American Tourister luggage.)

Erasing my mother from my life was made a tad easier by the biological fact that my mother was not really my mother.  In a weird way, being adopted gave me courage.

So much of my relationship with my mother is about what didn’t happen, what wasn’t said. To this day, I consume teen magazines like Seventeen, confident that I will learn something new in every issue, something my mother never bothered to mention, like how to use a tampon.

When my period started, I snuck into her bathroom, stole pads, safety-pinning them to my underpants. Surely she must have noticed her diminishing sanitary napkin supply and yet my own box never kindly materialized in my bathroom.

No, I just stole pads until I left home, got a job and had my own money.

My mother literally never told me anything.

Oh wait, she did cover sex:

“Never let a boy touch you THERE or THERE!” tapping my breasts and my cooch. “NEVER!”

That’s why I have spent most of my life self-educating myself (notice how closely that rhymes with self-medicating) about normal everyday things.

How to drive a car. How to clean a bathroom. How to pack for a trip. How to save money. I’ve signed up for class after class trying to figure things out.

My mother seemed to have been born adult, alone and icily determined to get hers. Her stories are so rare they seem like slide strips on a rainy day.

She told me once that her family was so poor that none of the kids had any toys. She and her cousin used to play nurse out back in a cherry orchard. The girls would put hankies on their heads for nurse’s caps and use empty matchboxes as hospital beds lined up in wards.

Their patients were grasshoppers, their legs torn off to keep them in bed. They pushed the sliding boxes up tight under the chins of each suddenly quadriplegic bug to keep them from escaping.

During her marriage to my dad her hair got redder and redder, the better to flirt with men who made more money than my dad, who offered better houses and futures than my dad who solved calculus equations to relax, made me cardboard Barbie furniture  and led my brother’s Indian Guides group.

She met Husband Number Two — an engineer! – while playing tennis — in (what else?) shorts.

Rayne Wolfe’s dream is to write her first book Confessions of an Undutiful Daughter by the end of 2011. She completed her dream journey May of 2011 on 8WD after a year living her dream. You can find her at Toxic Mom Toolkit on Facebook.

Related Stories:

  • In Honor Of Mother's Day: My Love Affair With Chocolate
    In Honor Of Mother's Day: My Love Affair With Chocolate
  • Test for seeing if you have a toxic mother
    Dealing with a Toxic Mom? Here's Your Mother Might…
  • Dream Mother: Amy Borkowsky Is Willing To Share
    Dream Mother: Amy Borkowsky Is Willing To Share
  • Coping with your difficult older parent
    Eat, Pray, Cope: What Kind Of Toxic Mother Do You Have?
Contributor Dream Stories

Enjoy this special 8WomenDream Guest Contributor story submitted by new and experienced big dreamers throughout the world, edited and published to capture a dream perspective from different points of view. Do you have a personal dream story to share with 8WomenDream readers? Click here to learn how to submit dream big articles for consideration.

Note: Articles by Guest Post Contributors may contain affiliate links and may be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on an affiliate link.

Filed Under: WRITE WITH US

Some of the posts on 8WD contain affiliate links or links to purchase products or programs from 8WD contributors. This means 8WD or the contributor may make a small commission if you make a purchase. The 8WD affiliate links help offset the cost of hosting this website and the contributor links help support the dreams of the contributor. Please check out the 8WD Legal Page for more details.

Thank you for your continued support!

« Conquering Body Issues Reading Women Food and God
11 Ways To Make 8 Women Dream A Top Blog »

Check it out

  • LAUNCH YOUR DREAM
  • BE A MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER
  • STARTING OVER MIDLIFE
  • HAPPINESS THROUGH ACTIVISM
  • TRAVEL THE WORLD
  • GET HEALTHY & FIT
  • BUILD SELF-CONFIDENCE
  • BRAVE LIVING
  • WRITE WITH US


The 8WomenDream Dream Tote Bag

About the 8WomenDream Tote Bag
US – 10oz Cotton
Dimensions (External Dimensions)
• Height – 18″ (45.72cm or 457.2mm)
• Width – 15″ (38.1cm or 381mm)
Handle Dimensions (Internal Dimensions)
• Length – 29″ (73.7cm or 736.6mm)

Recent Dream Stories

  • 8 Solstice Traditions for Focusing on Your Big Dream this Year
  • Winter Solstice: What Will You Do With 1 Minute More?
  • Why Halloween Costumes Can Help Discover Your Big Dream
  • How the Equinox Can be a Catalyst for Change
  • 5 Strategies to Live Your Wildest Dreams
  • Starting Over as a Single Mom Wasn’t My Big Dream
  • Warning: Big Dream to Be a Motivational Speaker Won’t Always Obey Your Plans
  • Dance to Relieve Stress to Focus on Your Big Dream

Inspiration

More About 8WD

WE BELIEVE EVERYONE HAS THE POWER TO ACHIEVE BIG DREAMS.
 
IT IS OUR SINCEREST WISH THROUGH THE SHARING OF PERSONAL STORIES ABOUT WHAT IT’S LIKE TO TRY TO ACHIEVE A BIG DREAM THAT WE WILL INSPIRE YOU GO AFTER A BIG DREAM TOO.
 
YOU CAN FIND OUT MORE ABOUT 8WOMENDREAM, HERE.

8 WOMEN DREAM | COPYRIGHT All RIGHTS RESERVED © 2025 · LEGAL

Welcome to 8WomenDream Where Big Dreams Are Shared
The 8WomenDream website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're OK with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. ACCEPT REJECT READ MORE
Privacy & Cookies Policy

Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary
Always Enabled
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Non-necessary
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.
SAVE & ACCEPT