Tomorrow is National Women and Girls HIV/AIDS Awareness Day. The Red Pump Project is an organization that promotes HIV/AIDS awareness to women and girls, especially those that are in the high-risk demographics.
Today (and I'm late, as usual) bloggers are painting Blogworld REDto spread the word. I hope you'll take a look at The Red Pump Project's site, Facebook, Twitter, etc. pages and help this very worthy cause.
Last Thursday, my son and his
girlfriend, who are currently living with Mulder and I, announced
they were having a baby.
Even freshly washed and removed from
all confections, children tend to be sticky.
~ Fran Lebowitz
I'm not a “kid” person. Never have
been. Calm down, I love/loved my own children. Although, if you put
a gun to my head, I couldn't give you one reason why I had children
other than - “Because ...”
I do not hold other peoples babies. I
don't go out of my way to check out a cute infant or child. I have no
clue how to converse in “baby talk”. I've always spoken to
children as if they are adults. (Actually, they tend to like that.)
My eyes roll back in my head when co-workers and friends speak at
length about the adorableness of their grandchildren. Needless to
say, the news that I was going to be!!!A GRANDMOTHER!!!, came as a shock.
Especially since the announcement came from my son and not my
Before you think I'm a horrid person, I
did have approximately 12.9 seconds of pure unadulterated joy. It was
the same rush of excitement and happiness I felt when I was eight
years old receiving a Chatty Cathy doll for my birthday. That was the
Martha personality zooming forward. But then Lizzie took over and I
looked into the gaping maw of fear, uncertainty and worry. The Abyss
loomed dark and deep with no end. It does have daisies growing in it, though.
So, there you have it. My child is having a child. Joy and horror. Happiness and terror. Martha and Lizzie. That's me. Dark, twisted, silly, funny, an optimistic pessimist - no wonder I'm exhausted.
accompanying my son's girlfriend to the OB today for her first
sonogram. Martha and Lizzie are raging in my head. I did smack
Lizzie down long enough to buy the cutest set of onesies in Target
the other day. I don't know what the future will be. Oh! How I wish
I did. I'm wrangling the negative down and trying (desperately!) on
the positive. I do know that I will NOT be called – grandma,
granny, noni, mama, grandmother, etc. I will simply be called,
Because I'm the grandest fucking person
EVER! At least that's what I keep telling myself.
This is a blog by a woman in her 50's who is finally on the crooked path to find who she truly is.
Married at 19 and divorced at 53. I am going to unearth the artist, the cynic, the free spirit that has been long buried. Or die trying.
I've left Bethlehem
and I feel free...
I've left the girl I was supposed to be
and some day I'll be born.