Do your childhood memories involve Potato Bugs? ----Mine Do.

Disturbing, I know.

Today I mowed the lawn. We may possibly be the only people in the Dallas area that do our own yard work. Yes, the sad commentary on life in the "big city" is that more often than not people hire out almost everything --- yard work, house cleaning, childcare, etc...

Well, anyway, back to the disturbing reality of the potato bugs that are firmly planted in my psyche ---

As I was mowing the lawn, the smell of freshly cut grass took me back to Billings, Montana, where most of my formative years were spent. It was there that I became an indentured servant a willing participant in the Potts' family household "chores." I put quotes around the word chores because chores in today's vernacular are NOTHING like what I did as a child --- oh, nay --- my sisters and I earned our keep! (walked to school, uphill both ways, over broken glass, sound familiar?)

Now my Dad has always been a gardener --- in fact, a very prolific gardener. We logged countless hours weeding each summer (did I mention that I was a child slave?) but it was the ever dreaded task of Potato Bug Picking that tops our collective "Things We Could Have Done Without During Childhood" lists. Let me explain.

First you have to appreciate the disgusting nature of these bugs. (Click on the highlighted word for a pic and explanation of them.) Not only were we instructed to remove the adult beetles from the potato plant, but also the baby ones, and the bright orange egg clusters (which look a bit like potato bug caviar) that were laid on the underside of many a potato plant leaf. Seriously, what pre-teen in today's world would oblige this request?

Now, don't tell PETA, I would hate to be branded as an animal abuser --- but once the offending potato bug was spotted, we were instructed to place him or her in an old coffee can containing an inch or two of gasoline. A painful way to go I am almost sure of it. Justice swiftly carried out as punishment for the heinous crime of eating my father's potato plants. Judge. Jury. Executioner.

So, why the story about potato bugs? Because as I raise my kids, I can only hope to give them as colorful a journey as my parents gave me. Will their journey involve picking potato bugs --- probably not. But it will involve some good old fashioned hard work! Were my parents perfect, no. Am I? Hardly! But, they loved me, sacrificed for me, and yes, made me pick potato bugs. Today, I am a better person for it. Mowing my lawn is therapeutic --- thanks in part to parents who taught me to work hard and to be proud of a job well done.

Happy Father's Day and Happy Birthday, Dad (yes a little late, but I wasn't finished with this post on time, and well, it just had to be perfect!) Your work ethic and integrity will never cease to amaze me. You are a dying breed!

And to my Mom, Happy Mother's Day! (I wasn't posting back in May, so I will piggy back this note onto my Father's Day post.) I had no idea how hard you worked all those years when the three of us girls lived at home. Thank you for the countless hours you logged working behind the scenes. No wonder the chore lists were so long! As a mom I am finally comprehending the unending work load that exists. I can't wait until I can put my kids to work too!

UPDATE---

After a few years of picking potato bugs, the Potts girls staged a mutiny and collectively won their freedom from this particular chore. Larry Potts was left to tend the potato plants himself. The sisters, to this day, shudder at the sight of old coffee cans --- and the smell of gasoline.

PETA declined to press charges citing that the statute of limitations for animal cruelty in the state of Montana had invariably run out. They also noted that the sisters had already served a hard sentence ---"The potato bug picking is punishment in and of itself" --- but that Mr. Potts would be closely monitored to ensure that his grandchildren were not involved in any future potato plant maintenance.