you are now in the double digits...
you are now a tween...
i am now no longer the mother of a nine year old...
i am the mother of a tween...
your first birthday
we had them write "happy birthday, onionhead"
on your cake
because you had cradle cap
and your head was always "peeling"...
now you call yourself "e-girl"
and you have abandoned your previous love of all that was pink
(when you were two i taught you to say "i don't like pink"
but you embraced pink with both chubby little arms
along with flowery dresses and glitter lipstick)
now you like red and black
and punk
and jack black
and red hot chili peppers
and twisted sister
and skulls and crossbones...
you are confident and at ease,
mature
and sarcastic-in-a-subtly-biting-way...
you can take it or leave it...
you aren't pushy or bossy
but you don't let anyone walk all over you either...
you love to read
especially archie comics...
you have been drawing your own "pin-ups" and "gag-bags"
you came to me today and said
that you didn't feel any different?
i said to come here, that we needed to check something...
i sat you on my knee
with the sad realization that it has been
a long time
since you have sat on my knee
and said "there. you still fit"
you smiled.
i asked you if you remembered when we used to say that,
when i used to reassure you that you would always be able
to fit on my knee
and you reassured me
that you remembered...
i thought about the time
i was putting you to bed
and you started crying at four
because you didn't want to grow up
and get married
and move out...
that you wanted to live with us forever...
and i assured you that you could
and that your husband could too if he wanted to...
and i wondered if your ten year old head still thought
the same thing
or if you were beginning to get that
"when i get out of here...." mindset at all...
i read little papers and notes you leave laying around
sometimes..i know i shouldn't but
i can't help myself
and no matter how angry you are with me
i have yet to find something bad written about me...
instead i find little sad or angry faces...
i can't beleive its been ten years today
that i was in the hospital having you...
ten years since i was that anxious, confident, nervous, mature
twenty four year old
with a boyfriend
and no money
and back to living at my parents
having a baby...
i knew then that this was the right thing to do
and i was right
even though many people tried to convince me of otherwise...
i looked at you once and thought
what if i had done what my boss at the time suggested
and had an abortion
i feel sick just thinking about it...
no onionhead...
no.
i did the right thing.
so...
all in all...
happy birthday onionhead
you were and are one of the best things
to ever happen to me...
virulent.
so.
we had a computer virus of some kind or another.
i really have no idea.
but we had to reformat the computer because of it
and that is why i have not been my usual posting-twice-a-day-cause-
i'm-starving-for-adult-stimulation-kinda-gal
heh heh
but we are now back on track
so let the posting begin...
except...
i have nothing to say
we had a computer virus of some kind or another.
i really have no idea.
but we had to reformat the computer because of it
and that is why i have not been my usual posting-twice-a-day-cause-
i'm-starving-for-adult-stimulation-kinda-gal
heh heh
but we are now back on track
so let the posting begin...
except...
i have nothing to say
potato pan fries...
last night i made my kids
potato pan fries
which are simply potatoes cut into slices
and then
fried
(and no, i didn't boil them in water to any of you
who read my previous post about thinking that
was how you deepfried something...)
and i felt that i was passing something down,
handing them a crispy memory on a plate...
my dad came from a family with 12 kids
there wasn't alot of money
and things were tough...
potatoes were cheap
and easily-found-enough-to-be-free
they ate potatoes...
alot.
one way that they ate them was to have potato pan fries
and because there were so many kids
they would grease the top of the old woodstove
and cook them right on that,
no frying pan was big enough to make enough for 12 kids...
when i was a kid, my mom would go to bingo
and my dad would stay home and have a couple of beers
and babysit
(hey...they also didn't use carseats or seatbelts...just laid the baby on the backseat)
as soon as she left
we would beg my dad to make panfries
and he would and as he did, he would tell us the stories
of his mom making them panfries
as i told my kids the stories of my dad making us panfries
last night...
which is nothing compared to the story
of how my dad made popcorn...
potato pan fries
which are simply potatoes cut into slices
and then
fried
(and no, i didn't boil them in water to any of you
who read my previous post about thinking that
was how you deepfried something...)
and i felt that i was passing something down,
handing them a crispy memory on a plate...
my dad came from a family with 12 kids
there wasn't alot of money
and things were tough...
potatoes were cheap
and easily-found-enough-to-be-free
they ate potatoes...
alot.
one way that they ate them was to have potato pan fries
and because there were so many kids
they would grease the top of the old woodstove
and cook them right on that,
no frying pan was big enough to make enough for 12 kids...
when i was a kid, my mom would go to bingo
and my dad would stay home and have a couple of beers
and babysit
(hey...they also didn't use carseats or seatbelts...just laid the baby on the backseat)
as soon as she left
we would beg my dad to make panfries
and he would and as he did, he would tell us the stories
of his mom making them panfries
as i told my kids the stories of my dad making us panfries
last night...
which is nothing compared to the story
of how my dad made popcorn...
in memory of...
it has been 15 years today
since you have been gone.
how can that be?
15 years.
you would have been 32...
but instead you were 17.
remember how when we were kids
we used to say that when we grew up and got married
we would live next door to each other
and you would paint your house red
and mine would be purple...
remember how we used to freak out
over red fiaros
and bon jovi videos (we could do all the actions at just the right time)...
billy idol
and the cult...
remember "i don't know why she swallowed a fly"
"i guess she'll die"
"fuck-a-duck"
and other meaningless to anyone-else-but-us sayings...
annual trips to the carnival?
the art of getting permission to go to the show
which involved asking your parents,
walking to my house to ask my parents,
walking back to your house to ask your dad to drive us one way
walking back to mine to convince my dad to drive us the other...
singing at the top of our lungs as we walked...
the time we thought we were going to get drunk
on the little teeny tiny bottle of vodka
that was in your parents cupboard
and how we mixed the kool-aid
and poured the vodka in and were all psyched up at 14
to experience our first "drunk"
but i kept thinking i could smell something
and damn, but that smell was familiar
what is that smell....
and just before we took our first drink,
it hit me...
TURPENTINE.
the little bottle of vodka was not vodka,
at all...
we had to throw out the juice jug even,
cause we couldn't get the smell out.
and vodka-and-kool-aid became the new funny phrase
that no one else got
but us
(although we were careful not to say that one around your parents)
i think of you and i think of
fisher price little people,
muppet babies,
happy days,
how you could never sit still when something tense was
happening on tv,
(like the time the fonz was going to jump over the barrels)
skillet uniforms,
blue and gray far west jackets,
that look you used to give when mad,
barbies in the bathroom with masking tape on
for bathing suits and peices of toilet paper for towels...
i remember how you used to laugh
just
for me...
how i could make you laugh harder than anyone...
i always knew you would laugh.
i couldn't eat with you at birthday parties
because i would inevitably make you laugh
and you would either spray your food everywhere
or choke...
and i'm still sorry for the time at mcdonalds
when i made you laugh and you choked and threw up
and then cried in the bathroom and wouldn't come
out because you were too embarrassed...
until i made you laugh telling you that an old lady
was cursing at the boy who was sitting next to us
because she thought he had made you throw up.
its funny that people i meet now (not family, of course)
find me "reserved"
i have a certain boundary line about being touched,
i don't readily give hugs
and people don't see me as the type of person
that you would just come up and hug...
not even my bestest of friends
and i think you would find that strange
because you were the only friend i had
that i felt comfortable with giving a kiss on the cheek
or the forehead...
with hugging or wrestling with...
there was never any question.
i wonder if thats why now i'm like this,
reserved and held back.
i dreamt about you after the accident.
i dreamt you were hurt, but you were ok
and we were still walking from my house to your house
but i was carrying you...
when i woke up i was crying
but i was so damn happy and releived and excited
and then i remembered.
15 years ago.
how can that be?
since you have been gone.
how can that be?
15 years.
you would have been 32...
but instead you were 17.
remember how when we were kids
we used to say that when we grew up and got married
we would live next door to each other
and you would paint your house red
and mine would be purple...
remember how we used to freak out
over red fiaros
and bon jovi videos (we could do all the actions at just the right time)...
billy idol
and the cult...
remember "i don't know why she swallowed a fly"
"i guess she'll die"
"fuck-a-duck"
and other meaningless to anyone-else-but-us sayings...
annual trips to the carnival?
the art of getting permission to go to the show
which involved asking your parents,
walking to my house to ask my parents,
walking back to your house to ask your dad to drive us one way
walking back to mine to convince my dad to drive us the other...
singing at the top of our lungs as we walked...
the time we thought we were going to get drunk
on the little teeny tiny bottle of vodka
that was in your parents cupboard
and how we mixed the kool-aid
and poured the vodka in and were all psyched up at 14
to experience our first "drunk"
but i kept thinking i could smell something
and damn, but that smell was familiar
what is that smell....
and just before we took our first drink,
it hit me...
TURPENTINE.
the little bottle of vodka was not vodka,
at all...
we had to throw out the juice jug even,
cause we couldn't get the smell out.
and vodka-and-kool-aid became the new funny phrase
that no one else got
but us
(although we were careful not to say that one around your parents)
i think of you and i think of
fisher price little people,
muppet babies,
happy days,
how you could never sit still when something tense was
happening on tv,
(like the time the fonz was going to jump over the barrels)
skillet uniforms,
blue and gray far west jackets,
that look you used to give when mad,
barbies in the bathroom with masking tape on
for bathing suits and peices of toilet paper for towels...
i remember how you used to laugh
just
for me...
how i could make you laugh harder than anyone...
i always knew you would laugh.
i couldn't eat with you at birthday parties
because i would inevitably make you laugh
and you would either spray your food everywhere
or choke...
and i'm still sorry for the time at mcdonalds
when i made you laugh and you choked and threw up
and then cried in the bathroom and wouldn't come
out because you were too embarrassed...
until i made you laugh telling you that an old lady
was cursing at the boy who was sitting next to us
because she thought he had made you throw up.
its funny that people i meet now (not family, of course)
find me "reserved"
i have a certain boundary line about being touched,
i don't readily give hugs
and people don't see me as the type of person
that you would just come up and hug...
not even my bestest of friends
and i think you would find that strange
because you were the only friend i had
that i felt comfortable with giving a kiss on the cheek
or the forehead...
with hugging or wrestling with...
there was never any question.
i wonder if thats why now i'm like this,
reserved and held back.
i dreamt about you after the accident.
i dreamt you were hurt, but you were ok
and we were still walking from my house to your house
but i was carrying you...
when i woke up i was crying
but i was so damn happy and releived and excited
and then i remembered.
15 years ago.
how can that be?
this...
i want.
i want this.
i need this.
this is too effing funny
and cool
and me
seeings as how i am also
too effing funny
and cool
baha.
(and a fan of self depreciating humor)
forgot to say what the link for these was
not if you wanted to buy me one or anything
but just so i can give credit where credit is due
heehee