you'll never guess what it's doing outside right now.......
So, to take my mind off yet more white stuff, I'll blog.
Yesterday was more than just Valentine's Day in our family' it was my beautiful daughter's 35th birthday. And I am still fascinated that I had something to do with creating this wonderful human being. I was barely 21 years old and married a little over a year when M joined us. Granted I was scared to death when they induced my labor.
And. It. Hurt. Like. A. Mo-Fo.......
but it only took about 9 hours from start to finish. I was lucky--I can't imagine being in labor for almost an entire day. I don't even want to do something that feels good for more than a few hours at a time.
I thought I knew what being a mom was all about, but boy did my generation grow up with clueless fantasies. Yes, being a mom is very rewarding, but it's also really hard. And no one really prepares you for it either. M was a beautiful, healthy 7 pounds, 3 ounces who had a mind of her own from the get-go. Of course, she instantly had daddy wrapped around her little finger; I was just along for the ride.
But she entranced both of us. We could not believe we had such a perfect baby. Even if she did have her days and nights mixed up for many months. 4AM, there she'd be wanting to see what was going on. "Absolutely nothing kid. Now please let mommy get some sleep." She continued to be a night owl well into her 20s.
Today she is a mom herself. And a business woman. And a great daughter. Love you tons M.
# # # #
Speaking of youth........ While I was working from home last week, I started cleaning out drawers in my desk. And, I found 3 poems I wrote when I was in high school. I was a hippie chick trapped in a Catholic school uniform. I thought I'd share one with you:
The man's camera goes click;
I realize he's taking our pic.
That does the trick,
I start feeling slick.
I give him the sign;
I'm feelin' so fine.
The sailors hand us a line;
Sorry-won't work this time.
The man starts away, Claud after him;
We follow her on a whim.
Says she's gonna photograph him.
"With what?" I ask, feeling grim.
She pretends to take a picture of the gent.
He says "She must be pseudo art student."
"I'm an art student, but I'm not pseudo." I went.
And that was how our evening was spent.