32

Age 2
A conversation that yes, actually happened last week:
ME: Ugh.  I can't believe I'm actually going to be thirty-one.
SHAWN: Ah, babe- you're already thirty-one.  You're turning thirty-two.
ME: Uh-uh.
SHAWN: Uh-huh.
ME: Uh-uh.  I was born in 1980.
SHAWN: Exactly. 1980.  It's 2012.  You're turning 32.
I think for a second.
ME: Oh, crap.

A few interesting notes according to my baby book and family history:
  • I was born at exactly 10:00 AM on May 22, 1980.
  • I was 17 days late. Apparently, around the 10th of the month, my mom was concerned she was in labor, but it was false labor and they sent her home from the hospital.  When my mom learned the doctor was going on vacation for a week and leaving that night, she expressed her concern and the doctor then said "Oh, don't worry, she'll wait till I get back."  And apparently I did.  That was one of my mom's favorite birth stories about me.
  • My first word was "kitty" 
  • Apparently, when I was old enough to walk and talk, I used to walk toward the cows (I grew up on a farm) saying "Here kitty, kitty, kitty."  
  • I used to love banging my hands on the piano keys (but who wouldn't? That sounds like fun even now).
  • I was born with a tooth showing and it cut through the gums when I was 3 months old.  (Weirdly, this is when my mom decided to switch me to bottle feeding.  Huh.)
  • When I got a little older, my first ambition was to be a circus clown.









Yesterday, or...Last Week

Spring.
For many people, it is their favorite time of year.
It was for my mom.
She loved Spring because it meant the frigid, dangerous Winter was ending.  She loved Robins more than any other bird.  At earliest chance, she would head outside and start tending the lawn; for her it wasn't about making the yard look pretty, it was about love.  She simply loved her flowers, she loved the feeling of taking care of her grass, the she loved the new life of spring.

My birthday is in May, as is Mother's Day.  (This picture was taken when I was two months old.)

This beautiful lady was also diagnosed with lung cancer in May of 2006, two weeks before I turned 26.


She made baby blankets for pretty much anyone she heard of having a baby.  It was her thing, and one of the hardest things for me to accept is that my mother will never meet my (someday) children, and I will never receive one of her custom-made, super-soft, made-with-love baby blankets to wrap my bundle of joy in.

Random: one of the best moments we ever shared was baking cookies, circa 2003.  I was being silly and I was like "Look Mom - Stonehenge!"  For some reason, this amused her to no end.  She said she loved my silliness and imagination.

This is one of the last photos taken of her.  She was on the phone with her sister, my aunt, and she was very tired.  By then, she was so sick and weak that even sitting up was a challenge, but she was still in good spirits that day.  I climbed onto the couch and clicked a couple pictures of us while she talked, for no other reason than I was trying to amuse her.  
*She died the following day, July 1, 2006 at 7:01PM.  

This is a crop I did of a photo taken in summer of 1980.  In this picture, she is 23 years old, has a three year-old and a 10 week old (me) that she is holding with pride and love.  Doesn't she look like she's about fourteen here?

I'm not going to get into details, but my mother's dream was simply that: to be a good mother.  To have children that would know they were loved.

We knew.

I didn't post my mother's day post yesterday because I spent most of the morning sobbing onto Shawn's shoulder.  I miss my mom.  It kills me that she is gone so soon, it kills me that her cancer diagnosis, mother's day, and my birthday all fall within two weeks of each other.
Every year, for some reason, I still mark her birthday on the calendar and how old she would be if she was alive.  This year, she would've turned 56.  She passed before making it to 50.

Mom, I miss you.  Some days are easier than others, but I think of you every single day and I hope I am making you proud.  Once, in the hospital, you told me to live my life and not be afraid, to chase my dreams and to be happy.  Some days are harder than others, and I continue to try to live by that philosophy.  When I look back on my life both before and after your illness, I see so many things I could have done differently, done better...more than anything else, I hope I am not a disappointment to you.



  







God's Facebook Account

I would like to open this post by saying I mean no offense to God, any religion, or any person. Everyone has their own views and I'm not going to get into "Is there a God?" and religious beliefs because I'm pretty sure one blog post isn't going to change anyone's views.  (As well it should NOT.)

Occasionally though, I think sometimes when someone is trying to be clever with their inspirations, the message gets lost:

Saw this on facebook
Okay, I know the whole idea was all: oh, remember when things are overwhelming, God's got it under control.  Yay, God.
Yeah...when I read this, my very first thought was:
So when I'm drowning, God is standing on me, keeping my head under water?

Again, saw this on facebook
Now again, I know in the larger sense, they meant that the only REAL problem in life, the only thing we REALLY need to worry about is our soul.  And yet...
I'm reading this and thinking...So God is going pay the rent today?  Awesome, Thanks, God!
And when I have to cough up the money to get a cavity fixed, my dentist is absolutely going to take the "God's going to take care of it for me" plan.  No problem. Just put it on God's tab; He's good for it. 
Just sayin'. . . .
Finally...I know on facebook sometimes people are just trying to spread the love.  But sometimes, spreading the love is incredibly stupid.  Like "click 'like" if you love God."  Or "Repost this if Jesus is the best thing in your life."  I have a standing policy to NOT click like on things that say "Like this if you think..." (gas prices are too high, or congress is stupid, or whatever).  It's the facebook equivalent of Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: and I hate it and refuse to participate no matter what the subject is.  "Click 'Like' if your mother is the best thing in the world." (Go fuck yourself.)  And there's the wonderful: "If you love Jesus, share this photo.  Fact: 90% of people won't share this photo.  Are you one of the 10% who are brave enough to proclaim they love God?" Okay, you know what?
I'm pretty sure God's not sitting up there thinking: Gee, Becky didn't repost that random sign someone made up on facebook...she must not care enough.  Screw her.
Really?
No.
I'm pretty sure that when the day of judgment is here, St. Peter is going to be like "Well, you were often pretty nice...but you were quite a bitch, too."  I don't think he's going to be all "How come you didn't share that picture? How come you didn't type Amen to equal one prayer?  Don't you love God?"  
Pretty sure that's not how it works.
(If it is, we are ALL fucked.)
Finally...you know how on the right hand side they show recommended pages based on what your facebook friends like?  One day I actually saw something that showed a page for "God."  And it said that two of my friends liked this.
Um....
Because God is sitting in Heaven wishing more people would follow His facebook page? 






I Am So Smart?


I  had a shit-tastic day at work the other day.  When that happens, there are only a few cures:
1.) A big, delicious meal (that I didn't cook) followed by rich, decadent dessert.  (Because you know what? It's not pretty, but it's true: food can make you feel better).
2.) A  (big) yummy glass of cheap "wine."  (Boone's Farm Fuzzy Navel, I'm looking at you.)
3.) Conan.
4.) (Old school) Metallica.
And finally:
5.) Languishing in a hot bath with plenty of bubbles.  (Link will take you to the best bubble bath I've ever used.)

So I was looking at number 5 on the list, possibly combined with a cold beer (to drink, not for the bathwater).
Pretty great, right?
Yeah, I couldn't get the stupid drain stopper to stay down.
My super-sophisticated drawing of how our stupid tub drain works (or doesn't).



In an ideal situation, the above would have actually happened.  But for some reason, it just would not stay down.  No matter how many times I said "Stay down, fucker!" the dumb thing wouldn't listen and just kept popping back up.
So, no bath.
Later...
I had realized if I could find something to put around the drain and form a vacuum seal that way, it wouldn't matter that the drain part was being a jack-ass.  I'd just override it.
So I thought and thought and thought.
Ah-hah!
I bought a brand new fresh toilet plunger. (Because an old one? Eew.)
My plan was to pull off the rubber bottom plungy part and just stick it over the drain and create a seal and viola! a perfect use of my logical reasoning skills.  Maybe I don't know how to make the drain do what I want the "normal" way, but I sure can get around that and do it my way.  On the way home from the store, I was quite pleased with myself.  I couldn't stop thinking: "I am so smart!"  (And yes, I did think it in bold face font.)  No more fighting with the drain again, ever.  I'd just pop 'ole plungy on top and everything would be fine.  Bubble bath and a Bud Light, coming right up!

Sadly, it didn't quite work like that.  You have to be able to push the plunger thingy all the way down in order for it to create the vacuum seal I was hoping for.  Only one problem with that: the dumb drain (my new nemesis) was blocking this from happening.  So the rubber plungy part sat on top of the drain looking stupid and not creating a water-blocking impenetrable seal of doom at all.  Frowny face.

So 'ole plungy never got used and will be going back to the store.  *Sigh.  I guess I'm going to have to call the maintenance man to get the drain fixed proper.  Poo.

There is an upside to this story, aside from my award-winning art work.
I set plungy down in the entryway next to the coat closet to await return when I next went to the store.  Shortly thereafter, Sufi started swatting at the wooden handle part, leaping up and hitting the top of it and knocking the whole thing down, only to cry so we'd stand the stupid thing up again and he can swat it down again.  The payoff:
After playing like this for a while, Sufi looked to me with big eyes like: "Aunt Becky, you are so smart...you're like a genius."

Yeah I am.


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...