Monkey see monkey do.. don’t let anyone make a fool of you..
My birthdate is coming up.
I certainly don’t want this to come back and bite me in the ass, but I’m feeling it. I should also note here that giving thanks and feeling grateful for what I have has been part of my daily ritual in my new/old life. Sometimes I forget and get bogged down with petty-ass problems, then shaking my head to clear it. How lucky am I to be able to live this life on my own terms? I’m still on this side of the dirt!
My birthdate is almost here, and my kids are planning a celebration. I want to be clear, I’m not celebrating getting older, uh uh, just my BIRTHDATE, you know… the day my mom gave birth to me. It was a very traumatic experience for her, and she did not whitewash it for me years later when she retold it for my benefit.
This is real life, kids, so quit reading here if you’re squeamish. I also found out she was pregnant when she married my dad. Catholics had to get married if pregnant back then.
So, this is how she told it to me. She was in labour, and when they took her into the birthing room, they were surprised to discover she had a bad case of pubic lice. Google it because I can’t seem to be able to write about it here. Anyways my dad was not a celibate type of man, and he loved to fool around. So, back to me being born, it wasn’t easy for my mom.
They knocked her out with drugs eventually, and when she awoke, she couldn’t wait to see me. She was horrified when they brought me to her and insisted they take me away. I was not her baby! I was covered in fine dark hair, and they had used forceps to help get me out. My face and head were misshapen, and she believed I looked like a monkey. Welcome to my world… lol.
We tend to sugarcoat stuff for our kids’ sake, and I wish she had sugarcoated that one, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting as the real story, right? We laughed about it at the time. My dad was long gone; She had left him when I was twelve years old, and she had six kids in tow, one in diapers. No mean feat!
I wish my mom had written a book. She was a writer and a published author of poems with a good friend of hers. She would be very surprised and proud as hell to know that I have found my passion for words as well, albeit much later in life than her.
We are so lucky to have so many more choices in our lives than our parents had. This is the year I will surpass the age my mom lived to. I lived past my own nanas’ age (62 yrs) years ago. She died young, of a brain tumor, but by God, she lived her life until the very end. One week she was bowling, and the next week she was gone. That’s how I want to live… until I die.
I didn’t sit down here to write about death, but here it is showing up on my page, twice now! My mom and my nana, I especially loved my nana and took her death the hardest. But I digress, my life always seems to be in flux, and I roll with the flow, do what I have to do to get through whatever it is I need to.
Really, that is all we can do; maybe showing more gratitude and living with less negativity can help change more lives. I think so. This is what I need to write about right now.
I decided not to celebrate getting older because, in my head, I’m always the same age. I just told my daughter this past week that I feel like I’m living my best life and don’t wake me if I’m dreaming… oh, and definitely don’t wake me if I’m having a nap, lol.
Our lazy cookbooks are bringing in donations for our Ukrainian charity. I’ve recently started a new book for future older gals, and I have a new man in my life. Don’t pinch me… actually, I give thanks almost every day for my life. I do make a conscious effort to live my best each day.
So, if you see me celebrating, it is for the day I was born, not a monkey, but a real live vibrant female force, one to be reckoned with! This is all I ask for or can ever want.
Happy birthday to me : )
copyright
May 27th 2023