Aug 11, 2008

Are you sure about that? . . .





My mother likes to tell some stories about me that always make me shake my head and say the same thing every time.


"Are you sure about that?"


According to my mother, I was extremely ill and near death when I was born. Apparently I had a feeding problem. I couldn't keep any baby formula down.



Legend has it that I projectile vomited across the room better than Linda Blair in "The Exorcist" and could hit the opposite wall from my crib if fed anything. My mom tells me that they lined my room in layers of plastic because of that.


My response.


"Are you sure about that?"


Take a moment and look at the picture of me and my two older sister's above. I'm the one who looks like she's in a food coma.


Do I look the least bit unhealthy to you?


I think I look more like I'm about to explode.


Whenever I point to the evidence in this picture - - evidence that I look like Uncle Fester's twin - - my mom quickly tells me that this picture was taken after my father found the cure for what ailed me.


Legend has it that my father discovered the one thing that I could keep down. It was something like, virgin Yak's milk, combined with the pinkie toe of a pygmy shrew, stewed in a vat of moonshine with an old baseball bat. It was created by a genius hobo living on the railroad tracks. Apparently it was readily available at the local grocery store, right next to homogenized milk and sour cream.


My dad bought cases of the stuff and fed it to me.


The picture is proof of that.


That's the end of that story.




Another story my mom likes to tell is the story of her 30th birthday.


Legend has it that I fashioned a picket sign out of a large sheet of cardboard that was attached to a long wooden stick. On that sign I wrote, "Today is my mom's birthday. She is 30 years old." According to her, I marched in the nude throughout our neighborhood while hoisting this sign, like an angry union member, for all the neighbors to see, while I chanted and yelled her age like the town crier.


My response.


"Are you sure about that?"


I was only 1 when my mom turned 30.


I'm pretty sure I couldn't write, or make a sign, or carry it, or speak, or leave the house through the front door and march through the neighborhood without someone noticing that I wasn't in my usual spot - my baby crib .



The tables have turned.

I tell my mom stories about herself these days.

She had a stroke last year and her memory was affected.

Stories about what she used to be like.

Her response.

She smiles and says, "Are you sure about that?"

11 comments:

CATHY said...

Awww, great story...Got Milk? just kiddin

Swirl Girl said...

great story. this would make a great liner notes for your book.

and I am sure about that!

Glamorous Life of a House Wife said...

HA! Oh my word, that is hilarious. Let's hope everyone stays fully clothed this birthday.

lyngweeny said...

Mom likes to tell me about the time she accidently pinned my diaper to my skin. She said I gasped and stared at her with big eyes welling with tears. Are you sure about that? I think I would have immediately screamed my little baby head off, not calmly waited for her to notice her mistake.

lyngweeny said...

P.S.
Didn't mom also say that you were a weird color when you were in the hospital?

only a movie said...

this is a sweet post, Romi.

Weith Kick said...

I read the post first then looked at the picture. When I went back to look at you in the picture I just about bust a gut, since you described yourself in a food coma. That's a funny picture of a baby that looks like she might be right in the middle of making a little doo-doo.

Weith Kick said...

You also look like you could be stoned.

Romi said...

Cathy,
LOL! The lactose free kind:-)

Swirl Girl,
I don't think this story would fit well in Regency times which is exactly when my book takes place. It's also a romance...nothin' romantic about this story. If I ever decide to do a contemporary novel I'll fit this in and give you a shout out for suggesting it
:-)

Glamorous life,
Well, I was wearing my birthday suit before I got dressed that day. Does that count?

L-weeny,
Another tall tale taken from Rose's vault of incredibly funny half truths.

It was Karen. Remember?

You were the pretty one, Karen was the one who resembled cooked carrots and I was the fragile one.

:-)

Only a Movie,
Thanks.:-)

Weith Kick,
I'll ask my mother if I was doing either of those things you suggested. If she can't remember, I bet she'll make something up.

"Of course you were stoned, dear."

Tanya said...

Awww! Your story made me laugh! I love hearing stories from my childhood, even if they are half-truths, lol. That's such a cute pic of you and your sisters.

Thanks for visiting my blog!!

Kat said...

You're writing a regency romance? My favorite :-)

But this post...omg...you are so funny. But it's so true. My mother swears that I dont' remember anything like it happened. I keep giving her incredulous looks. But we are sticking to our own versions of reality.