Okay, I know this isn't the greatest photo, grainy, dark, and Dad looks like he is going to growl at me or something, but I like it because of the look I'm giving him. You can tell I love my dad. Which is not what you would think if you read my novel, where the only dad is dead, and does not at all resemble our dad, either with his current temperment, or the dad we grew up with, who was, shall we say, a little more hot-headed.I had quite the parental week last week. I'll start with dinner at Dad's on Thursday night, since that came first, and will write later about hanging out with Mom in LaConner over the weekend (yes, Mom, you are every bit as interesting as Dad).
Dad and Lucia made the famous chicken and noodles that I LOOOOOVE and Lucia made a cherry pie. My reward for going to Auburn was a nice bag of leftovers, so I ate pie for breakfast the next day. The other reward was having dad tell us about how we got our names.
Apparently the name Heather was picked out before I was born, but then Mom looked at me and said "No, she doesn't look like a Heather...". Dad says that he said "That is MY BABY and her name is Heather!", then he told me about how when he first saw me (no dads in delivery rooms back then) he KNEW I was his baby, he would have recognized me anywhere. I think maybe it's because I looked like a little monkey and had the thick dark hair that he wishes he had. For the record, Mom is not the only one who doesn't think I look like a Heather
After that experience, I guess Mom refused to commit to a baby name for Allison, until she could see her and gaze deep into her soul for the name that would be the fullest experience of this little person's being. In the end, though, the nurse named her. Mom wasn't done doing her soul-gazing when it came time to check out of the hospital, and the nurse refused to let the baby leave with the name "Baby Girl Malcolm", though I think it would have been fun to call my little sister Baby Girl. So, the nurse said "How about Allison? Allison's a pretty name." And we've been calling her Puppy Sarah ever since. It's better than Dubervinski. Or Gronk.
Other baby lore - Mom says I weighed 10 pounds when I was born, but I saw a copy of my birth certificate the other day, and it's a vicious lie. I weighed 8 pounds, 14 ounces.
Grandma Ellen was visiting at dad's house, so I got to see her too. She is her same fiesty self and proudly told us that she is the only person from her high school class who is alive and living independently. Towards the end of the night, she was talking about how she had a hard time writing letters because she needs something for her typewriter, "I haven't been able to find erection, er, erasure correction, fluid", she said. Lucia and I looked at each other and winked.
2 comments:
That reminds me of the chocolate hard-on sauce I used to like when we were little. I've never been able to figure out a better name for it! I must take after Grandma more than I realized!
BRAAAKKKKEEEE!!!! EUGENE!!!! BRAAAAAAAKKKKKEEE!!!!!!!
I say that a lot.
Two things:
1. Your dad brought "name the baby" books from the library to the hospital and Allison was named, by me, for two women I admired: "Allison" for Allison Redner, a very accomplished and independent woman who was a leader in the 4-H club I belonged to as a teen; and "Claire" for Marjie Claire Lundel who was one of my San Francisco apartmentmates and a friend for life. She was close to us at the time Allison was born and I recently spent some time together. It was as if no time had passed. The nurses did encourage me to choose a name, because the process of naming later would be a pain in the neck involving an attorney. No nurse named Allison.
2. Fathers were encouraged to be in the delivery room at that time, unless the delivery was a C-section. We actually took "birthing classes" in preparation for an drug free birth for which your father would have been my coach. When your dad was told you should be born by C-section, his reaction was, "No, we're going home now." Pullllleeeeeeze. My best friend and next door neighbor, Madelynne Burton had her babies by C-section, and I'm told she was you dad's support person in the waiting room, saying "Breta and the baby will be fine, Gary."
I love this blog. You are both such good writers.
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