Oh My Gawd Sodagirl!

Archive for July, 2009

July 31, 2009

I turned 42, but don’t look at day over 41.

42

Did I say I turned forty-two? I meant twenty-seven because I lied last year and said I was 26 twenty-seven comes after 26. So, yeah, right.

Some of my family forgot it was my “special” day yesterday. Yes, I said “special,” because clearly it is if they forgot to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY. That’s just how “special” it was. Especially SPECIAL.

To the person who sent me a gift, woot!, thank you, LOVE getting mail that doesn’t require me to drain my bank account or my “services” will be shut off.

To the people who called me, thank you… means more than a present (but, uh, if you WANT to send me sompin’, yeah, DO IT).

To the handful of people who wished me HAPPY BIRTHDAY on Facebook, I do thank you – luckily, I get the messages in my email or I would not have seen them. I don’t do Facebook – much. Maybe once every few months I’ll get the gumption to sign-in, but other than that, I honestly don’t use it anymore. To those of you who are waiting for me to “friend” you, I will, the next time I sign-in. Like next Christmas or something. And to two of the Facebook birthday-well-wishers, I will SEE you in TWO WEEKS. Woot!

To the e-card birthday-well-wishers, spanx muchly (yes, totally real words, with real meaning, y’all).

To the email birthday well-wishers, thanks but I’m not sure I believe you when you said you TRIED to “attach” cash in the email, but it just wouldn’t work. Hotmail and Gmail were “not working properly” you said. Uh huh.

To the person who said they loved me so much (and will love me MORE once I make my first million), thank you for letting me know you are shopping at HOOKERS ACCESSORIES AND MORE for me. I bet it’ll be something special. And probably glittery!

So,you’re asking yourself, what has this clearly insane chick learned in forty-two, oops, twenty-seven years? Let me put you out of your misery.

1. When your daughter tells you, “Mommy, you don’t even look forty-two, you totally look, um, like you’re twenty-four (she’s really pushing it) and when my brothers tell you that you’re ‘old’ I give them dirty looks, just so you know mom,” what she really means is, “I’m totally sucking up bitches so I can get my own cell phone at the age of nine!”

2. When a 20-something dude calls you ma’am, he means it.

3. When you hear yourself say, “Oh, so-and-so and I have been friends for twenty-five years,” you want to bite your tongue off.

4. You probably shouldn’t wear the “JLo” glitter lotion you own, but fuck it, I’m going to anyway. See? At *cough* 42, you don’t care.

5. When your growns sons (see # 1) call you old, they absolutely mean it.

6. You’re at an age where you will most likely attend more funerals than weddings. Sad, but true.

7. It’s possible to become a grandparent (providing you have children), but don’t call me grandma.

8. It sucks when your doctor is way younger than you.

9. It scares the shit out of you to know you have been watching a particular soap opera for twenty-seven years. I mean, I don’t watch any soap operas. Like srsly, EVER.

10. You realize you haven’t learned as much as you thought.

Happy Birthday to anyone who is having a birthday this year. Ha.

Posted by Sassy @ 5:11 pmGlamourous,I want to Punch You in the Neck,Nonsense,Special Events & Stuff8 comments  

July 26, 2009

Call me grandma, and I’ll cut you.

Grandma

Is that the face of a grandmother? Say “Of course not, my gosh, there is no possible way you could be a grandmother,” or I’ll have to track you down and slap you. HARD.

A few days ago I got word from my oldest son, now 22, that he was going to be a father. And if he was going to be a daddy, that means I would become a grandmother. The thought was slightly frightening on a few levels, not the least of which, I.WOULD.BE.A.GRANDMOTHER.

Me? I’m too vain for that sort of thing if the truth be known. I still want guys to look at me and think, “she’s not bad,” or “I’d tap that.” Not, “hey, look, there’s granny.” Does that make a bad person? Probably, but I’m nothing if not honest.

There were other thoughts going through my head, too. I mean, was my kid ready to have a kid? He just graduated from his schooling, is the process of securing employment, and he and his fiance were about to take the first steps to buy a home, and now he has a baby on the way? Yikes. How would he and his girl possibly survive this? Of course, not lost on me was the fact that *I* had my son when I was just 19, and separated and living, once again with my parents. Not an ideal situation to be having a baby, but what’s done is done and there’s only room to go forward. That is exactly what I told my son. Yes, it was a shock to hear it, not totally surprising since history has a way of repeating itself in family situations, but still a shock nonetheless. Son a father? Me a grandmother? God help us. But more importantly, would I be a hot grandmother? I kid (sort of).

I did joke with him on that first day though of finding out, that if he or his fiance took the baby to Sears portrait studio or freakin’ Wal-mart, and not made me the baby’s official photographer, I’d be royally pissed. See? I can still muster up a load of laughs even in slightly and/or extremely upsetting situations. Not that having a baby is upsetting per se, but when your child is just heading into adulthood, and really was not planning on parenthood anytime in the near future and then pending fatherhood just sort of falls into the picture, it can be sort of boot-shaking.

It’s a weird position to be in really. One part of you, as the parent of a child about to become a parent, who yes, is a man, but in your mind, and heart, still a boy at times, is scared. Scared for him – will he know how to be a dad? Will he and his fiance be able to afford a baby (like any of us can really afford kids, if truth be told)? Will this tear them apart or bring them closer together? Will they name the baby Skyscraper or something else weird? OK, the name thing didn’t really cross my mind and I’m assuming they wouldn’t name their baby Skyscraper or Hermit, or HeyYou. Once again, digging deep for the humor. There’s another part of you that is excited, because oh.my.gosh. there’s a baby coming. Mixed bag of feelings.

The situation made me stop and think about my own parents. Did they have similar fears for me when I was 19 and pregnant and living in their home? I knew jack shit about babies. Yes, I have a younger sister and brother and remember when they came into our lives, but uh, they had a mother to take care of the important stuff, like diapers and other baby related crap. I just let them hang around with me, on occasion. Were my parents scared for me? Did they lay awake at night wondering how I would manage? Probably. But then there comes a time, when you put those thoughts aside – they’re still in the back of your mind, but you have to let the positive thoughts come through instead.

You have to let your kid know that no matter what, you’ll be there. There is no time for anger, or lectures on birth control, or saying stupid shit like, geez, what were you thinking? You don’t need a baby now. Doesn’t matter because when there’s a baby coming in a few short months, you have to get in the THERE’S A BABY COMING MODE. That’s what I did. Within a day, I was thinking of the day the baby would be born, what they would name the baby, how I had totally planned to make up a cute, fun title for myself. No Grandma, Granny, Nanny, or Nana for this chick. Oh no, I was going to invent something awesome because, uh, hello? Remember? I still harbor some vanity.

I pictured them bringing baby to stay with us for the weekend while they went away camping. How they’d fuss and remind me of feeding times, diaper changes, burping, bedtimem rituals, because I apparently don’t have children of my own. I’d smile and nod and tell them to have a great time, and baby will be fine. And when they arrived on Sunday to pick up the little guy (or girl), I’d say how much he/she missed them and they would smile – relieved I had taken good care of their munchkin and happy to hear they were missed by their baby.

I’d go shopping and buy cute things, spoil the baby because that’s what grandparents (insert cute made up name here) do, spoil their grandbabies.

Unfortunately, sadly, things aren’t going to work out that way. At least not at this point in time. My son told me today that his fiance miscarried. Yet another round of emotions.

Sadness because your child has had to experience something painful, those feelings of well, it wasn’t meant to be, which I do believe things happen for a reason, but that doesn’t make it less upsetting or confusing. Guilt, because for that split second after you heard the pregnancy news, you were thinking, gosh, can my kid really do this? Of course I believed he could do it, and knew he would step up to the plate. I was given the benefit of the doubt when I had him and I would definitely return the favor.

Obviously they were not expecting this pregnancy. But, after the inital shock, they decided to make the best of the situation and like me, had their dreams and plans floating around in their heads. Would they have a boy or a girl, would baby be a redhead like me and my son? Be born bald? Would they give him/her one middle name or two? So much to look forward to, and much work and responsibility, but so much joy to come as well. Now that pending joy is gone.

To my son and his fiance: This was not your fault. A miscarriage is not about fault. It’s something that happens to some of us (I’ve had a miscarriage and as son knows, I had a daughter who died at birth, too) and we may never know why. It wasn’t meant to be and as cliché as that is, it’s true. One day, when you do have a child, you will think of this time and the baby that wasn’t meant to be on this earth, but because of that pregnancy and miscarriage, a path was carved for you to have the child you end up with. Life works in mysterious ways. Make sure you take time to grieve and then look ahead to your future.

One day, I’m sure my son will be a father and when that day comes, I’ll be there. (But don’t call me Grandma).

SeanBaby1987

1987: Me and son

Posted by Sassy @ 11:19 pmKids,Semi Serious9 comments  






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