Friday, July 04, 2008

young giraffe rubbing against its mother

"my...*sigh*.... Mommy..." Nothing felt so good as to lay my head on my Mom's arm when I sat next to her. Half way through the public talk I got heavy-eyed, and minutes later I remember needing to rest my head on her soft arm. I didn't care that the man on the stage worked on his talk, overcame nerves to stand up there and deliver it, and might be offended.

She was ok with it until I was 9 or 10. That was pretty much the only time we could be very near to her. Once we weren't toddlers anymore she couldn't stand having us 'laying all over her.' I think she just didn't like us anymore.

Nowadays, I still have 'kids' plopping on top of me. Tiffany is famous for it. As long as she minds her knees and elbows, it's fine. I hope they will always want to sit on my lap, or lay her legs across mine on the couch, or put her head on my shoulder. Cara is over 6 feet tall, and she too will flop down, crushing me for a minute but I don't really mind as long as I can breathe. Mom's are for flopping on, that's what I say.

Just not when we're at a public talk and someone is delivering a discourse that they wrote. Cuz that's sorta rude.

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What's the story?

During the past 46 years, I've lived in Connecticut. I've traveled up and around the U.S. and to Puerto Rico, and loved every minute. I've had 4 children who are now fantastically talented adult artists and comedians. I've been married and then divorced and then engaged and then single and finally *big sigh* content. I've grown into a darn good nurse, cook, seamstress, and Mom.

Maybe one of these days I'll get this 'writing' thing down, too.

About Me

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I am where I do and am not where I don't. Not what I was or will be, just 'me'.

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