Category Archives: DPChallenge

DPChallenge, Happiness, Humor, Parenting, Uncategorized

Bombeckoned, Beyond Wit’s End (DP Challenge: Stylish Imitation)

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Erma Bombeck is remembered as more than just a brilliant writer.  She paved the way for wives and mothers to openly admit the difficulties encountered in every day life.  She broke away from the status quo and embraced imperfection.   She is legendary for her ability to tell the stories of her life with incredible humor and unwavering honesty.   The following story is my tribute to Erma.  While Erma’s gift to “tell it like it is” is exceedingly difficult to replicate, she will always have a huge influence on my writing.

BROTHER BRAWLS

I don’t understand why siblings seem to make it their goal in life to be cruel to each other.  Sometimes I think they do it just to get a reaction out of me.  And they usually do.  The meanness will make my blood boil faster than a pot of water.

One day, Eric and Jake were having an argument that escalated to the point that I felt I needed to step in and ask “What happened??”  Both started spewing out responses at the same time.  “He started it.” “I didn’t do it.”  “It’s his fault.”  “It’s not my fault.”  I interupted, “Woah, wait a minute.  From the beginning!”  Eric responded, “Well, it all started when I was born and…”  Maybe you are on to something Eric.

Jake enjoys looking at videos on Youtube.  I saw his most recent search on the computer.  “How to annoy people.”  I don’t think any instruction is needed for that topic.

Jake got in trouble for calling Eric a nerd for reading the newspaper.  When I reprimanded him about it, he concocted the answer “That was a compliment.  It means Not…Ever…Really…Dumb.”  Good save.

Jimmy and Jake were having a pretend fight as we were leaving a football game.  Jake rolled on the ground while Jimmy “kicked” him.  An elderly lady came up and yelled for them to stop fighting.  Jimmy tried to inform her that it was ok because they were brothers but Jake interjected, “No we aren’t.  I don’t know him.  He’s bullying me!”  Jimmy couldn’t convince her otherwise and they both ran to the car while she yelled after them.  Jimmy and Jake still quote her sometimes.  “Don’t make me have to go get my badge!”  To this day we can’t figure out what kind of badge she would have had.

The game “punch buggy” involves punching someone in the arm every time you see a VW Bug.  During an intense “punch” game, Greg was getting frustrated because he was in the back row of our Suburban and couldn’t reach anyone.  I saw him kicking and was ready to scold him when he yelled “Kick buggy, no kick back!”  All I could do was laugh.  The game eventually got out of control and the punching was banished because of too many injuries and complaints.  A few minutes later Greg exclaimed, “Say buggy, no say backs!”

Eric came to inform me that Greg called him “dumb.”  Greg ran in and defensively responded, “I did NOT.  I called you dork.”  Yes, that is much better.

Just when I was about to lose all hope of them ever getting along, the following conversation happened on the way to the first day of school for Greg.  Eric asked if Greg knew where to go and Greg said he couldn’t remember.  Eric put his hand on Greg’s shoulder and reassured him, “Don’t worry.  I will show you the way.”

With moments like that, maybe brotherly brawls and parental peace actually can coexist.  Hopefully they will show me the way when I forget.

DPChallenge, Humor, Joke, postaday, Uncategorized

Weekly Photo Challenge: Near and Far

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An atypical take on the “Near and Far” challenge: With nothing except a leaf bug on the windshield, a cell phone camera and a plethora of uber corny leaf and plant related references, here’s my encounter with…

BUGZILLA!

Upon exiting a building today, I had a growing fear that something was wrong.  I looked up, and couldn’t believe my eyes.  A legendary creature, feared by all had planted himself on top of the building.  Could it be?  Is it real?  It is!  Bugzilla!

                    Down from the trees
                          One story high
                         Spitting leaves
                    His head in the sky
                              Bugzilla!

I sprinted to my car as he leapt off the roof and  uprooted a near-by SUV.  It was reduced to a pile of rubble when he was finished.  He made a low screeching noise that sounded like a bark.

As I put the car in drive, Bugzilla noticed me.  He came creeping toward my car.  My nails dug into the steering wheel as I switched to reverse and sped away.

Good grief.  He sure looks like a leaf.  Go, go Bugzilla.

He’s mean.  And for-evergreen.  Go, go Bugzilla.

Bugzilla seemed determined to stick to his vendetta against mankind.  It appeared as if all would have to live in perennial fear. But suddenly, Bugzilla branched out his fury and began to turn on his own kind.  He mercilessly attacked OTHER GIANT BUGS, destroying them one by one.

The poor Beetles didn’t stand a chance.

DPChallenge, Happiness, Inspiration, Life, Uncategorized

Priceless Paper

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From a distance, the yellowed, typewriter written, tattered papers appear to be nothing impressive .  But the information contained on those papers is what makes them amongst my most cherished possessions.  It is the only window I have into an unknown part of my life.  The only knowledge about my biological past.  My adoption papers.

The sketchy information does not even come close to telling the entire picture about the beginning of my life, but it’s enough for me to read between the lines to create a story in my mind.  Enough to take the blank slate and provide some understanding of the circumstances surrounding my birth and what makes me the person I am.

The first page of the paperwork contains details about my biological parents.  The brief description – only a few lines total – is the most valuable information to me.  I can peruse the traits and see glimpses of myself in the presentment, especially in the features and personality of my biological father.  “Green eyes, dark brown naturally curly hair, dark complexion” could readily describe me.  I like to think I also am somewhat “outgoing, happy-go-lucky and have a good sense of humor” which is how my biological father’s personality is portrayed.

My biological mother is also described as having brown hair but with brown eyes, and no curls.  From reading her description, however, I know where I got my left-handedness.  Drawing is listed as an interest.  Perhaps that is where my son, Jake, got his love of art.  Her personality is depicted as “moody, quiet and lazy.”  I choose to envision that she was understandably moody because of the turmoil she was feeling over giving me up for adoption.  She was uncharacteristically quiet.  Pensive, wistfully wondering what “could have been” under different circumstances.  She was not lazy, just weary.  Fatigued and distressed about the toll pregnancy was taking on her body – and soul – for a baby she was not going to raise.

“Completed high school” is listed as the education for both, with the addition of “anticipates furthering her education” for my biological mother.  From this, I deduced that the pregnancy occurred during their senior year of high school and I was born the October after they graduated.  In another area of the paperwork, it states that pre-natal care began in mid-June.  I concluded that the pregnancy was concealed from her classmates, and most likely her parents, until after graduation to reduce the embarrassment of her predicament.  I wonder if either did go on to attend college after the adoption.

Some of the other tidbits of information tend to cause more questions than answers.  The papers state that I wasn’t given baby formula for the first time until three days after birth.  What happened during those first days of my life?  Was I still with my biological mother during that time?  What other explanation could there be for the delay in receiving formula?  My adoption wasn’t finalized until the end of January, more than three months after I was born.  I believe I was in a foster home during this time.  Was I living at a private residence or a group home?  Who were the kind people who took care of me?  What were they like?

Most of the remaining information is mundane medical records and daily routines.  But to me it is precious.  I don’t have anyone with whom to discuss those first three months.  No one to tell me how often I ate,  how I reacted to bath time, that I made a “coo” sound when I laughed.  These type-written words are all I have.

Will I meet my biological mother and father one day?  Perhaps.  There are so many questions that these papers can never answer.  Maybe one day I will try to fill in the gaps left by the words that are not written. But for now, when I feel overwhelmed by all the unknown, I will pull out the worn, aged papers and look for a clue I may have previously missed.  A clue to my biological past.  A clue to my adoption story.

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You may have noticed I only reference the parents who created me as my biological mother and father.  Not Mother and Father.  Not Mom and Dad.  I will always be grateful to the people described on those pages for making the difficult decision to give me to someone who could provide a better life for me.  But my adoptive parents were, and always will be my Mom and Dad.

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I’m so excited that this post was featured on the Freshly Pressed page.  Thanks WordPress for the recognition!  http://wordpress.com/#!/fresh/