OK, I’ve slept longer than I had in...
all of last week combined. I don’t know why. Perhaps I was temporarily possessed by my mother. If the administrator of heaven gave her a chance to come to earth to enjoy any of her earthly pleasures, she would choose to sleep. She awed me with her ability to sleep through anything that we 6 kids could do. Not that we would have wanted her to wake up, that time was pretty much a free for all for us.
Most of the time I could pretty much subdue the kids but I only had 14 months on one of my brothers and occasionally he would start “smelling his piss”, as my grandmother would say. (I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but it seems to fit.) He even broke my nose once to show that he was not going to bow to me. I was in a sleeping bag at the time and couldn’t defend myself. When I finally got out of it, I ran to the kitchen counter and bled on that for a while before thinking to go into the bathroom and splash water on it.
While I was still in the bathroom my parents came home. I could tell because my mother was shrieking from all of the blood she saw in the kitchen. She never could hold her head in an emergency. When I accidentally spray painted my own eyes, she shouted, “My daughter is going to be blind!!!!” over and over again. I hadn’t even considered that option. But, mothers are pretty smart and if she thought I was gonna go blind, I probably would. So I started screaming too. My poor father didn’t know what to do. He was squirting me in the face with the hose at the kitchen sink and telling me to open my eyes. I should have listened to the man...I ended up in the emergency room in a thing that held my eyes open whether I wanted to or not. They had a better way to squirt me in the eyes and they knew how to make it happen.
There was one time that she didn’t get upset over one of my injuries. She was too busy yelling at me for making her late for work by requiring stitches. I sat in the car holding my bleeding hand up for her to see and she just kept yelling at me. There was no sympathy for me that day. In MY mind, it was all her fault. If she had opened the damn door when I knocked on it, I wouldn’t have had to knock so hard on the window. But in her mind, I was tjust an annoyance that made her late for work.
There wasn’t really much pity in my house for stupid injuries, no matter how severe. When we got out first electric stove, I wondered if it stayed hot after it was no longer red. So, being the curious little girl that I was, I put my hand on the burner to see how hot is was. It was pretty damn hot. I had a spiral burn on my hand that hurt like a son of bitch. I hate a burn. I would much rather break a leg. They say redheads don’t feel pain as much as other people and I think that is probably true, I broke my back and didn’t know it until I had an x-ray 6 months later. I never felt labor pains until I had a head sticking out of me and that’s not a good thing. They don’t give any pain medicine during the last few minutes of childbirth and that was the only time it DID hurt. But I survived natural childbirth althought that was NEVER my intent. Anyway, I cannot handle a burn...I walk around with a cold pack on it for hours.
When I was about 2, I noticed that both my mother and my Aunt were wearing round things on their fingers. I wanted one and there happen to be a washer right in front of me so I put it on my finger. I ended up sitting on the neighbors workbench, my hand in a vice grip, wondering why they had to saw my finger off. I remember every minute of that experience.
Kids think funny things. I had a lot of nosebleeds as a little girl and I often ended up in the emergency room for them. They would pack my nose well, assuring that the blood would go down my throat. I remember the doctor using what I thought were a pair of scissors to pack my nose with. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was those scissors going up my nose. In the morning when my mother took the packing out, I was terrified that she didn’t take out the scissors. I knew they were up there, but I couldn’t see them to pull them out of my head. After I stopped being afraid, I was sort of proud of it. I would tell anyone who would listen that I had a pair of scissors in my head.
For some reason I told a lot of lies as a little girl. I told all of my girlfriends that I knitted my own sweater. I told a teacher that our stove exploded and that my back was all burned. Of course, you couldn’t see the burn, I had a shirt on which was a special medical shirt that you couldn’t pull up. I always had what in my mind seemed like very good BS. When I told my friends that our new car had a table and two couches in the back, they didn’t believe me. This time I was right, that’s how I perceived the pull up seats in the back. There was something that took the place of a table although that’s not really what it was. I stood there next to the car proudly proving that my story, if only this one time, was pretty much true.
Oh well, I have written about nothing long enough, I should go and find something more constructive to do with myself. Have a good day.
Meg
Send comments to: Meg.kelso@gmail.com
all of last week combined. I don’t know why. Perhaps I was temporarily possessed by my mother. If the administrator of heaven gave her a chance to come to earth to enjoy any of her earthly pleasures, she would choose to sleep. She awed me with her ability to sleep through anything that we 6 kids could do. Not that we would have wanted her to wake up, that time was pretty much a free for all for us.
Most of the time I could pretty much subdue the kids but I only had 14 months on one of my brothers and occasionally he would start “smelling his piss”, as my grandmother would say. (I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but it seems to fit.) He even broke my nose once to show that he was not going to bow to me. I was in a sleeping bag at the time and couldn’t defend myself. When I finally got out of it, I ran to the kitchen counter and bled on that for a while before thinking to go into the bathroom and splash water on it.
While I was still in the bathroom my parents came home. I could tell because my mother was shrieking from all of the blood she saw in the kitchen. She never could hold her head in an emergency. When I accidentally spray painted my own eyes, she shouted, “My daughter is going to be blind!!!!” over and over again. I hadn’t even considered that option. But, mothers are pretty smart and if she thought I was gonna go blind, I probably would. So I started screaming too. My poor father didn’t know what to do. He was squirting me in the face with the hose at the kitchen sink and telling me to open my eyes. I should have listened to the man...I ended up in the emergency room in a thing that held my eyes open whether I wanted to or not. They had a better way to squirt me in the eyes and they knew how to make it happen.
There was one time that she didn’t get upset over one of my injuries. She was too busy yelling at me for making her late for work by requiring stitches. I sat in the car holding my bleeding hand up for her to see and she just kept yelling at me. There was no sympathy for me that day. In MY mind, it was all her fault. If she had opened the damn door when I knocked on it, I wouldn’t have had to knock so hard on the window. But in her mind, I was tjust an annoyance that made her late for work.
There wasn’t really much pity in my house for stupid injuries, no matter how severe. When we got out first electric stove, I wondered if it stayed hot after it was no longer red. So, being the curious little girl that I was, I put my hand on the burner to see how hot is was. It was pretty damn hot. I had a spiral burn on my hand that hurt like a son of bitch. I hate a burn. I would much rather break a leg. They say redheads don’t feel pain as much as other people and I think that is probably true, I broke my back and didn’t know it until I had an x-ray 6 months later. I never felt labor pains until I had a head sticking out of me and that’s not a good thing. They don’t give any pain medicine during the last few minutes of childbirth and that was the only time it DID hurt. But I survived natural childbirth althought that was NEVER my intent. Anyway, I cannot handle a burn...I walk around with a cold pack on it for hours.
When I was about 2, I noticed that both my mother and my Aunt were wearing round things on their fingers. I wanted one and there happen to be a washer right in front of me so I put it on my finger. I ended up sitting on the neighbors workbench, my hand in a vice grip, wondering why they had to saw my finger off. I remember every minute of that experience.
Kids think funny things. I had a lot of nosebleeds as a little girl and I often ended up in the emergency room for them. They would pack my nose well, assuring that the blood would go down my throat. I remember the doctor using what I thought were a pair of scissors to pack my nose with. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was those scissors going up my nose. In the morning when my mother took the packing out, I was terrified that she didn’t take out the scissors. I knew they were up there, but I couldn’t see them to pull them out of my head. After I stopped being afraid, I was sort of proud of it. I would tell anyone who would listen that I had a pair of scissors in my head.
For some reason I told a lot of lies as a little girl. I told all of my girlfriends that I knitted my own sweater. I told a teacher that our stove exploded and that my back was all burned. Of course, you couldn’t see the burn, I had a shirt on which was a special medical shirt that you couldn’t pull up. I always had what in my mind seemed like very good BS. When I told my friends that our new car had a table and two couches in the back, they didn’t believe me. This time I was right, that’s how I perceived the pull up seats in the back. There was something that took the place of a table although that’s not really what it was. I stood there next to the car proudly proving that my story, if only this one time, was pretty much true.
Oh well, I have written about nothing long enough, I should go and find something more constructive to do with myself. Have a good day.
Meg
Send comments to: Meg.kelso@gmail.com
posted by Meg Kelso | 8:24 AM
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