How I became Mommamanowar

No, it doesn't have anything to do with the loudest band in the known universe.

It has everything to do with a 14 year old boy.

I never wanted children. The thought of something 8 lbs plus coming through an area that's about the size of a dime never sounded appealing. I never had a "biological clock" tick. Whenever I saw a baby (unless it was a close friends' child) I thought, "Oh gawd, it throws up and poops. I appreciated my friends who became mothers, loved their children, but as far as popping one out?

No thank YOU.

Then one dark and stormy night, without so much as morning sickness, I became a mom.

 I was in my record shop after 9 p.m., listening to Ted Nugent's Stranglehold LOUD (as it should be), and there they were. Two very cold, soaking wet boys, one with a skateboard, one without. The skateboarder was Paulie, I knew his father well, and they were looking for shelter from the storm.

"Can we come in?" Paulie asked. "My Dad's gonna pick us up in a little while, and we wanted to hang out with you."  I was a little miffed that my Nugent time was interrupted, (The Nuge and I are close, you know) but I let them in.

"Who is your friend? "  I asked Paulie. "Oh, this is Gary, he'll be quiet."

Gary....was a 14 year old boy, disheveled, dressed oddly and didn't say much. I told them to go to the listening stations and not bother me. They picked out their CDs, threw on the headphones and I went back to work. Soon they departed with Paulie's dad and I thought no more of it.

Then...Gary came back to the store. Almost every day. I told him if he was going to be there he had to work and put a vacuum in his hand. I gave him a small job every day, including walking Dizzy Miss Lizzy, my beloved 1/2 sharpie, 1/2 doberman. Lizzy loved Gary instantly, so I knew he could be trusted.

Gary worked for a few months, then came in one day smelling like "boy." Anyone who is a mom knows that musky smell boys get when they don't take showers and wear the same clothes for days on end. I told him to go home and shower.

"I can't." Gary said.

WHY?

Because, Gary was a "couch surfer." That's slang for a kid who is homeless. Till that moment he'd been sleeping on couches in strange houses whenever he could. It was just before Thanksgiving, and I was horrified. How could a boy this nice, this funny, with such a big personality, have nowhere to go?

Surely someone must care for him, love him.

Turns out I continue to this day to be quite naive and usually WRONG. Gary had been homeless for about six months and no one cared where he was. I sent him to my home for a shower and scarf clean clothes from my now EX.  To my ex's credit, he reluctant allowed me to "keep" Gary in our home for was was supposed to be a short time.

OK, I lied about the short time part. But only to the EX. Gary would soon outlast the marriage.

Gary's last name is Mann. He became interested in Manowar and music in general very quickly in our home, sitting for hours while we listened to all kinds of music on the stereo. (The "What's Funk? " blog coming soon, thanks Bootsy Collins!)

As time went on we became closer, yet neither of us could figure out what to call me. I wasn't his "mother," I wasn't a relative, I was no one to this boy, really. Yet he felt I needed a name...so Mannomom came to be. Mommamanomom. I am now in tattoo form on his arm. I also have a tattoo that I recieved on Mothers' day, complements of Gary. (This story is for another blog.)

Since I became Mommamanomom, I've had more parental experiences that I ever thought I could. Gary's brought great joy, much consternation and unbelievable happiness to my life.

Gary once told someone "Some people have moms, others have to find theirs."

Every year he sends me a Mothers' day card. Its a reminder that I should be sending HIM a thank you card on that particular day for saving my vajayjay from undue stress.

Thanks Gary. Happy Mother's Day to ME.