Sometimes Your Family Gets It...

Sometimes your family gets it... sometimes they don't.

Guess what - shockingly enough - my family "got it". My sister to be more specific. She called to wish me a happy birthday - my beautiful niece hopped on the phone to say "happy birthday Aunt S!" and then my sister and I got to talk for quite a while.

It was great. I told her our good news and our bad news. She was of course very happy about the good news and very sad about the bad. She went through a late second trimester loss with her first pregnancy and I believe also had a miscarriage in there as well. She asked how I was doing. I told her okay - just wanting to get things taken care of to move on to the next step so to speak. She said - ahhh Mom and Sam's (she's my half sister and has always called my dad even in death by his first name) philosophy on life. I chuckled and said yeah I guess.

She then related a story that I had forgotten... I was very close to my paternal grandma. She lived with us and watched me and read to me. I loved her. When I was 2.5-3 she died, suddenly in the middle of the night - just went to get up to get something from the table and slid to the floor. I was sleeping at the time, but apparently the story was told multiple times. My grandma was dead before she hit the floor. My father was very close to his mother. The day of her funeral someone decided to ask what happened (in regards to grandma)? Me being the ham that I was at that age demonstrated Grandma falling from the chair... conking myself on the head splitting my forehead wide open. My dad had two choices... he could let my mom take me to ER or he could take me to the ER and maybe miss his mother's funeral. He chose to take me to the ER and to the funeral holding me the entire time.

The other thing I remember about that day is that looking at Grandma I thought she was a wax model. I also thought she was coming back as a dog to protect me. Isn't it great how a kids mind works? I apparently though I'm Christian believed in reincarnation.. (I've grown out of it)

Also whenever I would get in trouble for misbehaving I would gather up all our dogs (yes we had multiple dogs) and take them and sit under the dining room table and pretend I was running away on the "doggy airplane" The whole time muttering about how bad my parents were because they weren't letting me do x. My parents of course laughed about these things and told D about them when he first met them. I think they were warning him that he'd have his hands full. About a half hour on the doggy airplane my parents would come and ask me to come out... I'd tell them we hadn't landed yet. Then land - come out and forget all about it. In other words I'd vent and get over it, moving on so to speak. So... D and I talk a lot of things to death then it's water in the bridge so to speak.

So if this doesn't make you think I was a hillarious kid I don't know what will. So tell me some wild stories from your childhood... don't birthday's just do that.

I could tell the story of when me and one of my friends was called hussies (hussys?) by my dad due to our low cut shirts and makeup. we'll save that for another day!