I was reading this blog (yeaaa I figured out how to do the linky thing!) last night before bed. I was thinking how amazing it would be if I found out E had saved “A Box of Gold” for all these years to give to me. I think for me it would represent the simple fact that my memory was not erased from her mind out of necessity which in turn would mean I personally didn’t bring her all of this pain. Knowing I held a special place in her heart would be a nice thing to know.
Note: aparently I did not figure out the link thing. I was at Suz’ blog writingmywrongs.typepad.com
Post entitled; Box of Gold
So last night I dreamed that E gave me poetry she had written. The pages were just plain white copy paper, stapled together in a sloppy sort of manner. On the cover was a picture of a clown.
OK I have to note here that I hate clowns. Is that wierd? Well, wierd or not clowns scare the crap out of me and always always have. When I was little my aunt made me a clown. The thing was hideous but my Mom made me keep it in my room like poor Ralphie in A Christmas Story wearing the bunny suit from Aunt Clara. That thing terrified me and I do believe I was scarred for life by having to sleep with it five feet from my face!
My kids make fun of me all the time about my strange phobia. We were at a Halloween parade and there was this guy dressed as a horrific clown. I thought that was pretty rediculous for a childrens parade. I can imagine a select few kids joined the ranks of clown hater that day! I bet there is some really cool specific name for my fear like bigshoerednoseaphobia but I don’t know that it would make them any less terrifying to me.
Anywho the clown was on the cover of this book of poetry and after reading the note above I’m sure even those without a degree in psychology have figured that one out. I remember flipping through the pages and coming across a poem entitled; Hospital. It had my name and a bunch of blank spaces. The poem looked like a madlib. Remember those? Again, it seems pretty obvious what my dream was telling me.
Nothing profound, just more evidence of the amount of space this takes up in my brain.
So how about something happy yes? OK, I have four very awesome kids. They are brilliant and funny and much to my dismay at times they are independant and stubborn. They get that from their dad.
My eight year old daughter S is wise beyond her years. I honestly believe she has lived a thousand lives and as such barely tolerates being mothered by someone half her age. At least that is how she acts.
S informed me yesterday that she is lactose intolerant. That’s right, I said lactose intolerant………..and she’s 8!!!!!!! I am willing to consider this could have far more to do with watching too much T.V. than with past lives but either way, oh bother, right?
I told her I was sorry to hear that and maybe she could just have some soy milk and fruit for dessert instead of the rockin’ chocolate marshmallow ice cream we had planned to eat. Poor thing.
I am happy to say she had an immediate and full recovery.