THE DAY MY PARENTS
BECAME MY KIDS

On March the second, my bedroom door flew open, and my mother rushed in wearing her usual long dress for work.

     "Piper," she said, jamming her hands into her hips and stamping one foot on the floor. "I've had it." She threw her hands up to either side of her frizzy hairdo. "I'm sick and tired of your father making fun of my hair." She stamped her foot on the floor again, threw her hands down, and stormed over to the edge of my bed. "Ugggggghhhhhh! I'm so angry, I just want to smack him, but I know you'll get mad and ground me … so …" She pointed toward the door. "I want you to go downstairs and talk to him … right now!"

     Her eyes opened wide and she threw one hand over her mouth, and then lowered it a little. "Sorry, Piper. I didn't mean to yell at you. You're not mad at me, are you?" She dropped to her knees and threw her hands up over the mattress and clasped them together like she was praying or something. "Please? Will you tell him? Will you get him to stop? Pretty please?" Tears fell from her eyes. "Please?"

Yes, that's my mother-as she exists now-the one I may be stuck with for the rest of my life. I'm a girl who used to have the normal life of any twelve-year-girl-until the day my mother stormed into my room and acted all weird.

     But before I get to that, take a look at a normal morning around my house.

On March the first, my bedroom door flew open. I peeked out from under the covers and saw my mother rush in wearing her usual long dress for work.

     "Piper," she said, jamming her hands into her hips. "You overslept again. Now you'll have to rush to get dressed, rush downstairs, rush to eat, and rush to catch the school bus. Don't you ever get tired of rushing?"

     I looked at the clock on the night table.

     Seven-eighteen, I thought.

     "Mom, I got a whole half hour before the bus comes. That's plenty of time."

     "Plenty of time?" She marched to the bed and ripped the covers off. "You get out of that bed right now, young lady." She looked around my room. "What a dump? I swear if the city refuge people saw this room, they'd think it was the perfect place to unload all their garbage." She glared at me. "Don't you get tired of living like a pig?"

     Why don't you go away and leave me alone?

     I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "Chill, Mom … you, don't see any mud, do you?"

     She reached just under my bed and lifted one of my air-Jordans-by the laces. "What do you call this … chocolate? Tell me you've been walking around in chocolate."

     "It's not mud, Mom. They've been there for a week. It's hard dirt … so hard, it's almost rock."

     "What were you doing walking in the mud?"

     Hound, hound, hound. Can't you get a hobby or something?

     I slid my feet to the edge of the bed and scooted up to it. "Dad drove me to the astronomy club fieldtrip. We set up our telescopes … and I guess I didn't notice where I stepped."

     She let the shoe drop. It hit the floor and pieces of dirt flew off everywhere. "You stepped on the back floor of your father's car. You stepped all along the hall … and you stepped across the kitchen floor. I know, because I had to clean it up."

     I plunged my feet to the floor, stood up, and stretched. "Look on the bright side, Mom. I didn't get a speck of dirt on my bedroom floor." I whipped my arms down and yawned. "Until you came in here and dropped my shoe."

     She whipped a finger in my face. "Don't get cute with me. I should have grounded you for tracking in all that mud … or take away your computer privileges for a few days … or your cell phone."

     Oh, she gets on my nerves ... but I'll just play it cool.

     I walked to my bureau, opened the drawer, and took out clean panties, socks, and training bra. "I'm sorry about that, Mom. I'll be more careful next time."

     She turned around in a circle looking at my entire room and stopped. "Well, when you get home from school …" She smacked a finger into her left palm. "One … you're going to clean up this room." She smacked two fingers in her left palm. "Two … you're going to hand wash those shoes until there isn't a mud … dirt stain on either of them." She smacked three fingers in the same palm. "And three … you're going to gather up all these dirty clothes lying around, take them downstairs to the basement, and wash them yourself."

     Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh! Will you knock it off?

     I threw up my arms. "Aw, Mom. I've got something planned after school."

     She threw a finger in my face. "Watch it … or I'll make you wash all your clothes by hand."

     Nag, nag, nag! Boy, if you were my daughter, I'd nag at you twice as much as you do me.

     I looked at the floor and kicked at the throw rug. "Okay, Mom."

     She left and I walked down the hall. Shane darted out of his bedroom door next to it and headed for the bathroom.

     "Hey," I said. "I go before you. My bus comes first."

     He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "You were supposed to go first twenty minutes ago. It's my turn, now." He turned the knob.

     I ran to the door, caught the last arm to disappear beyond the doorframe, and yanked him back. We met face to face-nose to nose.