Yesterday I got quite a surprise. And did I mention I don’t like surprises? Valerie, I think we figured we were fifth cousins three times removed (in other words, she had enough space in the gene pool for a chance at normalcy), and I had lived near one another when our kids were still PM (palatable and malleable). Those were my single mother days.
When she moved away, before giving birth to her last child, we vowed we would stay close. You’ve heard those promises, and seen them broken before, right? We were true to form — caught up in our own chaos, both raising four children.
So when an unexpected manila envelope arrived yesterday, I opened it tenuously. I pulled out a stack of old letters in my handwriting. Immediately, two thoughts alternated in my head. Either she was dying and this was the ultimate guilt trip, or she was so angry she was returning our friendship.
Delightedly, it was neither. She wrote a note about maybe, if I’d been no better at journal keeping than she, I would enjoy having these letters as sort of a family history. I spent the next hour, laughing at escapades and shedding tears over experiences I would rather forget (again) as I read from one unrelated thought to another.
May 9 (some time back)
The GAP performed a gymnastic routine with Smart Dance Studio. The family curse did not abandon her. Her hat flopped over her face each time she bent over. My mom laughed so hard her eyes disappeared in her wrinkles. The GAP was too fast for the mean jack-in-the-box who was supposed to carry her off. When he picked up a slower more infirmed jack, she stood on the stage mouthing the words, “He was supposed to pick me up.”
I knew my ex was bringing a date, and you’ve always got to keep the other woman wondering “why in the heck did he ever let her go.” Of course, I didn’t see him until afterwards. As I stood, Cheezy threw up down the front of me. The night was getting better by the minute.
Can you believe, when we went to the car, it tettered on the parking stall’s cement block. Hot Wheelz confessed he’d started the Vanagon while retrieving comics from the car (he wasn’t too excited to watch a dance recital). The car had lurched forward from first gear. And no, he couldn’t tell me while it was still light outside.
If you remember that lurching forward is how we got the hole in the garage wall, too, and the subsequent, family of mice. But that was another day.
Since I was a mess anyway, when we got home, I decided to deal with the kitten. The cat had an abscess under his neck. It was ugly. I didn’t have the $40 for the vet. I lanced it and gave it Cheezy’s penicillin. Looks like the cat will pull through — not so sure about Cheezy.
I spent another night on the couch in my clothes, because I was too tired to do anything else.
You wobble off the delivery table and soon forget the intensity of the pain as you hold that precious child in your arms. As a mom, you stagger through the years, luckily forgetting the harrowing events or how tired you really were.
Related posts:
- List for the doctor
- Let me introduce you to my family
- The secret of coping with bad days
- Family vacation Chevy Chase style
- What’s in your purse?
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So it seems you were able to read at least a few of my scribbles!–At least enough to get my intent–Good! Love your parting comments! Having a great time with the grandkids here at Shannnon’s place. But we have been out of air conditioning ALL week long, and so that has been miserable since NJ/NYC has been having a heat wave with the highest temps on record to go with their high humidity! Did I mention natural sweat baths? Love you, Valerie