Each Sunday, I talk to my mom and dad. It's weird calling my parents now that I am getting older. There is always a mix of wanting to avoid talking to them, but yet knowing for as crazy as they are, they too are mere mortals. Translated, parents become important in a way they weren't before because you know you aren't going to have them forever.
My mom told me today that they were polishing my bed. This is a mix of spring cleaning and the never ending marathon of dusting etc for my little sister's wedding. Anyway, they told me that my bed was "shiny like a tuba." Yes, my bed frame is old brass. It does rust. It's actually was my parent's bed before it was mine, and my great grandmother's bed, too.
I got it because my sister was an accident, birth control gone wrong. I was privy to this information when I was a teen and my mom was telling us how birth control could mess up. Apparently I was birth control gone wrong too. My mom says she's grateful because if my brother was an only child she would work as a docent at a museum because he shortened her lifespan so much.
When my sister was born, they had to move me out of the nursery to a big girl bed because now the crib was hers. This was an emergency and that meant me sleeping in the heir loom. Thus my sister stayed in the nursery and got a single bed when the time came. Serves her right......lil accident.
So today, as my mom is telling me about this, the conversation took an interesting and disturbing turn:
Mom: I think I might have been born in your bed.
Me: No Mom, you were born in a hospital.
Mom: No, I was born in your bed. People werent born in hospitals then.
Me: Mom, you were born in a hospital. Remember, your mom and the lady across from her swapped names?
Mom: Yeah, that's right.......I was.......then your grandmother was born in your bed.
Me: What?!
Mom: Yeah, geat-grandmother had to use this doctor she didn't like because of the bank. They pulled your grandma out with forceps and broke her nose.
Me: Really?!
Mom: Really.
Me: That's a lot. Birth.....Childbirth.......in my bed. Blood, guts......EWWWWW!!!!!!!!! No.....just no!!!!!!!!
Dad: So that's what we have to look forward with you.
Me: I am never having children.
Dad: It's better than someone dying in your bed.
Me: Then I would never sleep there again.
Dad: Well people die in hospital beds all the time and they flip the mattress over.
Me: If anyone died in my bed I would burn the damn mattress.
Later I thought, there had been a birth in my bed. Then my parents had my bed before me. So there had been lots of ucky action there. Dear God.......what a disturbing thought. And I just came from church too. May God cast Satan out of my mind......
My mom told me today that they were polishing my bed. This is a mix of spring cleaning and the never ending marathon of dusting etc for my little sister's wedding. Anyway, they told me that my bed was "shiny like a tuba." Yes, my bed frame is old brass. It does rust. It's actually was my parent's bed before it was mine, and my great grandmother's bed, too.
I got it because my sister was an accident, birth control gone wrong. I was privy to this information when I was a teen and my mom was telling us how birth control could mess up. Apparently I was birth control gone wrong too. My mom says she's grateful because if my brother was an only child she would work as a docent at a museum because he shortened her lifespan so much.
When my sister was born, they had to move me out of the nursery to a big girl bed because now the crib was hers. This was an emergency and that meant me sleeping in the heir loom. Thus my sister stayed in the nursery and got a single bed when the time came. Serves her right......lil accident.
So today, as my mom is telling me about this, the conversation took an interesting and disturbing turn:
Mom: I think I might have been born in your bed.
Me: No Mom, you were born in a hospital.
Mom: No, I was born in your bed. People werent born in hospitals then.
Me: Mom, you were born in a hospital. Remember, your mom and the lady across from her swapped names?
Mom: Yeah, that's right.......I was.......then your grandmother was born in your bed.
Me: What?!
Mom: Yeah, geat-grandmother had to use this doctor she didn't like because of the bank. They pulled your grandma out with forceps and broke her nose.
Me: Really?!
Mom: Really.
Me: That's a lot. Birth.....Childbirth.......in my bed. Blood, guts......EWWWWW!!!!!!!!! No.....just no!!!!!!!!
Dad: So that's what we have to look forward with you.
Me: I am never having children.
Dad: It's better than someone dying in your bed.
Me: Then I would never sleep there again.
Dad: Well people die in hospital beds all the time and they flip the mattress over.
Me: If anyone died in my bed I would burn the damn mattress.
Later I thought, there had been a birth in my bed. Then my parents had my bed before me. So there had been lots of ucky action there. Dear God.......what a disturbing thought. And I just came from church too. May God cast Satan out of my mind......
