Happy birthday to you, you ripped out my womb. I had to have stitches, happy birthday to yoooooou!

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…

c6bd5-jessica“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.

This is the actual cake.

This is the actual cake. Mmmm cake with blu tack icing.

The birthday card that was presented to me read as thus:

Son n.

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.

Spawn

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23 thoughts on “Happy birthday to you, you ripped out my womb. I had to have stitches, happy birthday to yoooooou!

      • Mr D, Spawn has turned the words ‘what?’ and ‘huh?’ into a new art form. At least with the grunts, we had some sort of communication going. Now I’m just going to record my most used phrases and play them back to him whenever those two words are uttered.

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  1. I dont remember this post or at least I dont think I remember this post. . . Why is that. . . .AH YES I know I am going completely gaga (not in a wearing weird clothes and singing sort of way. . . AH hang on maybe just wearing the occasional weird thing, but it is not something I make a habit of).

    14 . . . . Ooooooo as a chap I know that’s difficult but then so is 15 and 16 and 17 and 18 in fact it is difficult all the way to 93 as far as I can tell for a chap (OK I’m not 93 it just feels like it).

    Many Happy thingies Master Lil Man I hope the birthday is going well. . . I guess you will have been at School learning stuff and electrocuting small insects in the Physics lab. I still cant work out what we were actually meant to learn from all those experiments zapping poor defenceless insects lashed to electrodes, the physics teacher laughing hysterically and jumping up and down. . . . . .Those modern comprehensives were a bit odd.

    Anyway Happy Birthday Master Lil man and happy giving birth day Miss Lily I can see it brings back fond memories . . .

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    • Thank you Rob. My day comprised of yelling at mater to get off the laptop. Yelling at mater to provide a cooked meal. Yelling at mater to take cooking lessons at the unsatisfactory cooked meal. Hiding from mater as she rages against how I yelled at her.
      And I don’t need to go to a physic lab to electrocute small insects.

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      • Thanks Mr Z. All those memories. All that pain. Was he worth it? Hell no! I wish I’d bought a puppy instead.
        Of course I love him really. No one else could put up with either of us.

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  2. Happy 14th Birthday to Spawn! Lily, you have “spawned” an awesome and brilliant writer! (But ouch about all that ripping!!) His birthday post from a couple years ago had me in stitches, I could not stop laughing! He was 12 when he wrote that? Impressive! It was witty, humorous and creative (just like his mama, it’s in the genes!). What he wrote at the end saying how you are loved and always there for him was very touching, pure love!! Thank you for sharing it with us.

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    • Aww, thank you Madilyn. Spawn is very creative. Not only does he play music and is an excellent sketch artist, he also writes stories. He is actually top of his class in English and at the age of 12, he had the reading age of a 18 year old.
      I was surprised at that ending myself. He isn’t one for great shows of affection, so it was quite touching for me as well. We really are two peas in a pod.

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      • Lily, you two really are peas in a pod! Your son has such a wide range of talents and really quite advanced. The ending of his post was very touching. I’m glad you shared the post with us and I can tell you are a proud mama!

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        • Madilyn, thank you and you’re most welcomed. My Lil fruit of the loom was ‘diagnosed’ as a boy genius at the age of 3. I’m not sure if that explains his eccentricities, but his Aspergers certainly lends to his personality. Although he keeps telling me that they’ve diagnosed the wrong person and that I’m the one that should be tested.
          I am a very proud mama, despite sometimes wanting to lock him up in the cupboard under the stairs and feeding him nothing but fish heads for dinner.

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  3. Well I dunno if your son has the same color eyes as you, or the same color hair, shape of nose, or strikingly similar big toes, but what I do know is you both have the same wonderfully snarky sense of humor. You must have a lot of fun together. I hope he had a wonderful birthday. 🙂

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    • Susan, he looks nothing like me (he resembles his dad) and his toes are like fingers. But our personalities are the same, so we both have a very snarky sense of humour, in fact my whole family does. Even our writing styles are similar, something which he is loathe to admit, although where I’m vulgar, he’s caustic, as evident by his writing on his Doctor Who blog. And yep, we do have a lot of fun together and laugh a hell of a lot. Just asked him if he had a wonderful birthday and he replied ‘yes, but it would have been even better if I had been born into another family.’

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