My mother died
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To some people this is one of the most traumatic events in their lives. My mother wasn’t like other mothers. We had what you could call a difficult relationship. I was the middle child and my brother is only 11 months younger than me so I had to grow up pretty quickly to make room for the new baby AND he was a boy. Add to that that I looked a lot like my father – shiny black curly hair and even if Isay it myself, I was cute. My father adored me. I suppose that’s what started it all.
I don’t ever remember receiving a compliment from my mother. All A’s in school were never enough because she thought I wasn’t working to my potential. Imagine how soul destroying that was for a kid?
I’ve sat here for 2 1/2 days with old memories pouring into my head. Some of them make me sad, some make me angry and some even make me feel guilty. What if I was a shit kid all that time and she was right not to like me? Consciously I know I wasn’t a bad kid. I won the school’s good conduct medal, didn’t I? I was in the National Honor Society. I had a part-time job. Still, the doubt exists – what if I’d been a nicer person, would she have loved me.
My sister tells me of course she loved you. Easy for her because I always wanted to be treated like she was. Maybe she DID love me and just had a funny way of showing it to me.
There were good times and there were funny times and there were the awkward times. Like the time she was eating breakfast and leaned across the table to reach the newspaper and plopped her breast into her coffee cup. Okay.. you’re laughing now, aren’t you? Well, we did too. All of us did. Even dad laughed. Well folks, she didn’t think it was one bit funny. The angrier she got the funnier we thought it was. I deserved her wrath that day because she really was injured with the scalding coffee and we thought it was funny.
How do you sort out your feelings when you’ve lived years and years bottling up resentment?
Not sure but I’ll let you know when I figure it out.
You know, but you can’t prove it
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That was a situation my friend had for a while several years ago. She knew something in her soul but couldn’t prove it so she had to let it fester.
She and her husband owned a business together. There was a woman in their office who seemed to be openly flirting with her husband. My friend would see her in his office more frequently than she thought needed to happen. The woman in question worked for my friend. When he would get up and go to the kitchen for coffee, it seemed that the flirter needed coffee at the same time. They’d have staff get-togethers at their house and when her husband went outside with the smokers, the flirter would be right there next to him. We were really close friends and I’d often get invited to join them all. It was fun playing pool, watching tv and just having great conversation. I have to admit that I thought it looked a bit funny as well.
One day she when had had enough she asked her assistant if she thought there was anything going on between her husband and the woman and her assistant told her that she couldn’t believe it but she thought it looked a bit too cozy too. Then my friend asked her housekeeper if she thought it seemed odd. (She cleaned their office as well.) The housekeeper thought the woman was looking for more than she bargained for but couldn’t believe that he would ever be interested.
My friend asked her husband if there was anything going on between him and the woman at the office because now it wasn’t just her that thought it looked suspicious. He said she was seeing something that wasn’t there and for her not to worry. Okay, she let it rest and then one day she just felt fed up with the whole thing and accused him of having an affair. He was so angry he picked up a vase and smashed it on the floor and said, “I told you there’s nothing going on and I’m sick of being accused like this,” and stormed off. She cleaned up the glass and started feeling guilty for starting a fight for nothing.
Move ahead 3 years.
They had had an affair and it lasted for 5 years. It was ugly when she found out the truth. She knew but she just couldn’t prove it. What an awful spot to be in.
I don’t know where my friend got the strength to forgive him and move on, but she did. The woman no longer works for them and they moved their business to another city. I miss the opportunity to catch up with her often but she seems happy and says that as long as he continues to be nice to her and doesn’t appear to be misbehaving, she’ll stay with him. I wish them both luck.
My Son’s Birthday Cake
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My son was turning 12 back in a previous century and we were having his party at the local roller skating rink. Do they even have roller skating rinks any more? Whatever, that’s where it was going to be. A few days before the party my boy asked me what sort of cake I was going to make for him and I said that had to remain a secret and if I told him then I’d have to kill him.
“No, seriously Mom, I want to know. You make jokes all the time and my friends are going to be there and I don’t want them to laugh at me.”
Now some mothers would say, “Aww, of course I’d never embarrass you, sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about,” but that wouldn’t be me, now would it? I told him that it remained a secret til his birthday.
The very next day and a day and a half before his birthday he and a friend got into some mischief that included using some of his dad’s tools, a knife that had been put away “til you’re older,” and a very rickety treehouse in the woods behind our house. My kid would be the one who climbed as high into the tree as he could but then couldn’t figure out how to get down. His friend came running into the house saying we needed to call the fire department to get Al out of the tree.
I said, “He’s not a kitten! If he got up he can get down.”
Off I went in pursuit of my firstborn. There he was looking like a frightened koala at the top of the tree sobbing his heart out.
All I could say was, “You little shit, whatever prompted you to climb that high??”
It took about an hour but I talked him down and never got close to calling the fire department.
So on his birthday, this is what his cake looked like. Sort of. I found this photo on the net because after all these years, the photos of the cake are long gone but the memory will stay with all of us for a lifetime.
He saw the cake, remembered his horrible ordeal and knew that he and I would be close forever. And we are.If he was embarrassed by the cake it didn’t show. I overheard him talking with his best friend David saying, “yeah, my mom’s cool.”
I voted for George Bush
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Not the second time, but the first. I was upbeat and hopeful and full of enthusiasm and now years later I think, how could I have been fooled so badly? I bear some personal guilt for what is happening to our country. I’m sorry and I could use some forgiveness.
I’m ashamed of how Americans are viewed around the world.
The America I was born and raised in was a different place. We were taught that we could move safely around without having to “have documents” like those bad Russians. We’ve all watched the quiet death of many of our civil rights. Our cherished freedom comes from the lack of restrictions, not from the imposition of more and more restrictions whether it be on your ability to earn a living, speak or simply enjoy your life.
It’s not about Republican or Democrat or even left or right – it’s about acting like Americans, the kind the world respects and in the past wanted to emulate. Americans are more than Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo Bay, secret CIA interrogation offices around the world and sabre rattling every time someone says something we don’t like.
In the old days we were taught that the US was the center of the universe and for much of my young life, it was. I want to go back there.
Meeting an Internet Lover
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Dare I say it happened to me? It was a long time ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. We had been flirting online for weeks and had progressed to phone conversations. I thought he had a great voice and he said he was turned on by mine. Who wouldn’t have been flattered by that? I thought he was perfect for me and couldn’t wait til we had an opportunity to meet. We’d meet online to chat and we’d talk on the phone and soon the phone bills were more than a plane ticket. Could someone, anyone, be perfect for me? I had to know.
My grown children were shocked. I was NOT to meet this man.
“He could be an axe murderer,” said my daughter.
“He could be a jerk,” said my son.
They both were worried for my safety and all I could think of was what if he WAS perfect for me. Did I want to go through my entire life wondering if I’d missed out on the good one? I’d already had a bad one and didn’t want another one like that.
We made plans to meet but all we promised each other was that we would each have a good time. No other promises were made. I think many people meeting through the net make a big mistake by promising love or sex or anything in particular. What if you don’t like them? You might feel obligated to have sex with someone you have no desire for – no thanks. I knew we’d have a good time because we enjoyed each other’s company online and on the phone so in person couldn’t be too bad.
I made the journey and he was waiting for me with a bouquet of roses and when he saw me he threw them on the floor and put his arms around me and kissed me. How cool was that? He did pick up the flowers and give them to me after the kiss. He was exactly like he’d been on the net. He was intelligent, fun, sexy, friendly, honest, witty and did I say sexy?
We got to his place and in his great concern for my exhaustion from the travel, he suggested that I take a shower and lie down.
“Nothing will happen, you just need some rest.”
Uh huh. I took the shower and went to lie down and we got up after we’d had sex SEVEN times.
It’s been more than 13 years since we met and he’s still perfect for me.
Having Babies
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You know, before I had my first baby I was really quite modest. I would have to think for weeks before making an appointment for a pap smear and when I got to the doctor’s office and into the stirrups it was a game of yes you can spread your knees and no I can’t. Then I got pregnant. It seems that for a pregnant woman, every medical person you meet wants to peek between your legs. To prepare you for the big event, I suppose.
The delivery.
You start having a few pains and after a while decide it’s time to call the doctor and head for the hospital. So far so good. Modesty still intact. The MOMENT you arrive at the hospital you are no longer a human woman. You are a baby machine and you’re turned on and in high gear. Even though the staff at the hospital have been through this thousands of times, they all have to have a good look and then someone reports that you’re not dilated enough so sit and wait. Later they check again and insert the fetal monitor. That’s so others can see how much pain you’re in without your having to tell them.
As the pain increases and the baby starts down speedbump lane, you’ve got your legs spread wide apart and people are walking past you right and left and all of them take a peek “down the hole” to see if they can see a head. What’s really amazing to me was that by that time I didn’t care if the Pope himself had a peek, it just didn’t matter, I wanted that baby on the outside of me!
For a few days after delivery, you are still remembering that parts of you belonged to the world but it does go away. About 6 months later and you’re feelling great again, you go right back to being modest. And then you get pregnant again.
Boobs Float
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That’s right, if you’ve got ‘em big enough and you’re swimming nude, they float. I don’t like to swim nude because, as you might have guessed, I have big boobs. It’s uncomfortable to swim with them bobbing up and down like a little kid’s floaties. I much prefer a swimsuit that ropes those puppies in.
Now if I’m not actually swimming but doing a bit of skinny dipping with the man of my dreams, a little bit of floating ain’t bad. I mean he doesn’t have to go chasing for them, does he? They’re right at the water’s edge ready to be taken.
I Get What I Want
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I’ve always been able to get what I want. Even as a kid, if I REALLY wanted something, I got it. I’m not talking about indulgent parents because I didn’t have any of those, but what I have always had is a vivid imagination of what I wanted. We’ve all heard the sayings, “If you think you can, you can,” etc. It’s true. If you can think it up and believe it can happen and expect it to happen, it will.
It’s also true that if you think about something you don’t want.. you’ll get that too. It’s like there’s only a one-way think. So if you’re wanting something spectacular to happen in your life, think good thoughts about it. Turn away from negativity and doubt and fear and also turn away from negative people. Can’t never did anything, my father always said. (I’m sure he got that from someone else!)
Some friends have asked me if I feel guilty “getting lucky” as frequently as I do and I say no. I think there is abundance of everything and whether I “get mine” or I don’t, it’s not going to change what you or he or them over there get. When I want something I believe it will happen. Try it with confidence.
Farting In Front of the Priest
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I know this is 25 secrets and I’m sure I have that many, if not more, but the FIRST secret should be really important, shouldn’t it? I mean who’s gonna be interested in your other secrets if the first secret is boring?
Nobody would call me boring I don’t think. There are lots of other words they’d call me like old, round, short, sparkly, rich, interesting, informed.. ok they wouldn’t call me rich. I was just trying to see how that would look in print. It looks pretty good to me. Maybe I should work on getting rich but I probably won’t.
Ok, drum roll please. My first secret is that I farted in front of the parish priest when I was 11. We all know that women don’t fart (at least in front of another person). At 11, girls don’t admit that they fart at all – ever!
The story goes like this. Every year in our parish, one of the local priests visited every household that belonged to the local Catholic church. They did this for a few reasons but my dad said it was only to get “the pledge”. They never told you when they were coming, they just turned up on your doorstep.
Well, the day in question my parents were arguing back and forth. I don’t think it was serious but it went on much of the day one summer Saturday. My mother was outside watering her favorite yellow roses and my father came out and she turned the hose on him! He was so not happy. He didn’t say anything but turned and went back into the house.
A few minutes later, and just as the priest, Father LaVoie, was pulling into the driveway, my father opened the upstairs window and dumped a bucket of water on my mother’s head. You can only imagine what everyone did. All three kids were screaming with laughter. My father was chuckling and my mother (who had NOT seen the priest drive up) started cursing my father in French.
My mother turned around (still yelling) and saw the priest. She was in a white shirt, all wet and nearly died of embarrassment. My mother would not watch a wet t-shirt contest much less appear in one anywhere. It wasn’t a t-shirt but a white shirt is a white shirt and you could see her nipples through that shirt!
Father LaVoie did the only thing he could.. he laughed. He laughed a big belly laugh and suggested that my mother change while he had a chat to the kids and dad.
Now THIS is where the BAD THING happened.
We all trudged into the house and were standing in the entry hallway as my father came down the stairs to greet the priest. Father LaVoie was a lovely guy, even if he was a priest. I have never understood why priests have to be celibate but that’s another story.
He asked my sister how she was doing on her violin and asked my brother how he was doing in baseball and he said, “Secrettia, how are your grades this year? I know last year you were at the top of your class.” At 11 I was easily embarrassed and I hesitated and during this huge pocket of quiet before I answered I let the biggest fart any kid could possibly create. Instead of politely saying, “excuse me.” I said, “that WASN’T me!”
My brother and sister roared with laughter and my father just smiled with a look that told me nobody was buying that excuse.
Now normally this wouldn’t be a life defining moment for anyone, but for me it was. For the rest of my life and I’m not young by any means, I have been confronted every time I see my brother or my sister about farting in front of the priest. Nobody talks about my mother with her hair all wet and flashing her tits to the priest, oh no.. it’s always gotta be about me farting in front of the priest.
It wasn’t me and I still don’t fart.
You Will Not Marry That Man
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Back in the olden days there was a conflict called the Vietnam War. In 1966 the love of my life had been drafted. We were both very young and very much in love. My parents wanted me to stop seeing him because “all you’ll get is pain,” because he was going away. They didn’t get it. I was in love with this man who had very recently been a boy. I was preparing for college in the fall and he was going away to war. It didn’t seem right and it didn’t seem fair.
He asked me to marry him and wait for him. I said I’d do anything he wanted. I would have tossed myself on a spiked fence for him. He was kind to me and he was respectful – something I had never had at home.
I told my parents we were getting married.
“You are NOT getting married,” I was told.
“I AM getting married,” I said.
In order not to bore you, I won’t repeat all the times they said and I said the same thing over and over.
“Go to your room,” I was told.
I went to my room and didn’t come out for 4 days. I was really hungry. All I’d had for 4 days was water out of the bathroom tap.
I went to the kitchen and said, “I’m hungry AND I’m going to get married.”
They just looked away. I could barely hear, “we will not permit you to marry THAT man. We have contacted the priest and he will not marry you in the church.”
I said, “fine, I’ll get married in his church.”
The look of total shock came across my mother’s face as she realized it was not only possible but quite probable that I was serious. I left that afternoon and organized a wedding at the church. We didn’t have any money but we’d be married and that’s all we wanted.
Eventually my mother couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter being married away from “our” church and the small family wedding was planned in great haste because my love was due to leave for the Army soon.
Now we’re getting to SECRET #2.
The wedding went as planned – the center aisle in the church seemed 2 miles long and nearly every step my dad said, “it’s not too late, chicken, we can turn around.” I kept walking. We said our “I dos” and went to the reception. Someone started feeding me rum and coke and it was really good. I’d never been a drinker before.
I kept drinking.
…and drinking
Til finally my mother said we should leave on our honeymoon. We weren’t going far, only to Massachusetts, but it seemed like a long way to us. Our first night though was at a motel in town.
We got there, he carried me over the threshhold and we were inside. I was VERY drunk. I was waste of space to be honest. I didn’t care. I was married. I was a Mrs. and nobody could tell me what to do ever again.
I didn’t feel so well. My brand new husband wanted to try out the bride.
I got my white silky gown and toothbrush and went to the bathroom. I don’t know what happened in that bathroom but once I locked the door I realized I was alone in the world. Yes I had a husband but he was leaving me. What had I done? To him? To me? I’m sure it was the booze taking hold but I decided if I never went out of the room we wouldn’t REALLY be married.
He knocked on the door, “Are you nearly ready” he asked?
“No. Go away. I don’t like you any more,” I said.
“Don’t be silly, come on out,” he begged.
“No, I’m not coming out. I’ve made a big mistake,” I cried.
“It’s not a mistake, I love you and we just got married.”
“No, your mother wears Army boots and you tricked me,” I promise this is what I said.
“Your drunk, it’s ok, come on out.”
This went for 2 hours. I was still very drunk and was sitting on the bathroom floor crying. He finally came to the door and said that it was fine if I didn’t want to be married to him and it was fine if I wanted an anullment, but would I PLEASE COME OUT.
Slowly I opened the door and crawled out on my hands and knees (I couldn’t stand up). The wonderful man I married got on his hands and knees and kissed my forehead and said, “You are the silliest woman I’ve ever known.” I laughed and we talked and I decided that maybe being married to him was a good thing after all.
We had a lovely 4 day honeymoon and then he left for boot camp. I saw him for a weekend before he shipped out to Vietnam. That was the last time I saw him.
Coming out of the bathroom was a good thing.
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