Fourteen years ago, my uterus was ripped painfully apart by a head the size and weight of a bowling bowl. But as I held the love of life in my arms, I felt such unconditional love and joy, that the agony of pushing forth the apple of my eye, was worth the one inch tear and the copious amounts of blood. Damn, how I miss that placenta. Anyway, here’s a post that Spawn actually wrote for his birthday a couple of years ago. The words are his, the title is mine. Enjoy.
This morning, I awoke to the sound of what I thought was a giant crow screeching a death call. It took me a moment to shake the fog of sleep from my brain, only to realise that it wasn’t a crow but my mother talking rather loudly. Most children when they celebrate the day that they are born, are met with a joyful “happy birthday!” What I I got was…
“B***** Hell! It smells like something crawled out of your butt, slithered across the room and died looking for the exit.” Which was then followed by, “Get up! Apparently it’s some kind of special day today, here’s cake”
A slice of cake where the icing resembled blue tack (and tasted like it) was then thrust under my nose, along with a cup of tea that tasted like extracted urine.
The birthday card that was presented to me read as thus:
A child of the male gender. They come in various shapes and sizes. Known to eat their own body weight in food. Most commonly found in front of the TV screen, may be allergic to mornings! They prefer to communicate with a series of incomprehensible grunts and growls, despite this, sons also inspire limitless love, (this was crossed out and replaced with the words “suicidal thoughts”) pride (again crossed out and replaced with the words “displaced anger”) and happiness (replaced with, “a growing sense of discontent with the way my life has ended up”) and remain a highly prized addition to the family unit. (all crossed out and replaced by “and needs a good slap”)
Whilst inside the card, the scrawling writing read:
“Although you almost ripped me in two and I could quite happily slap you upside of your head, I love you more than life itself…now go and tidy up your bloody room”.
Happy Birthday Monkey Boy.
A gazillion hugs and a trillion kisses, mum xxxx
This month, we’ve got some people coming into school to talk about the types of jobs we’d like to do when we leave. I’m thinking of taking up alcoholism as a career choice, just to numb the experiences of my blighted childhood.
Thanks for the cake mum, it was adequate and should keep me in a sugar induced state for a couple of hours. And the tea was sufficient enough to quench my thirst. Also, thank you for carrying me in your womb for nine months and eleven days. The fat from your midsection kept me safe and warm.
But in all honesty, this woman is loved despite her psychotic nature. She is humorous in her ways and always there for me. Though sometimes I can be difficult, you are the best mum a child could ever have, athough I really don’t have any choice in the matter.
I suppose love you…deep down and I mean deep deep down.