Memory Lane

See this big ol' melon head?


This would be Cameron 26 years ago.

Everyone say "Happy birthday, melon head!"


OK, let's compare to a somewhat normal sized baby head (that would be his brother, Casey on the right):


Let's talk about this melon head of his, shall we?

Every time Cameron gives me a headache, I casually mention the fact that I went through 26 hours of HARD labor to bring that head of his into the light of day.

We're not talking about namby pamby labor either, we're talking about induced labor with NO DRUGS.

Ladies, if you've ever had an induced labor, you can attest that it's like going from 0 to 60 in less than a minute. Now multiply that by 26 hours, and you'll get a sense of it. Here's a quote from a website I found:

"The contractions on the pitocin were so intense and so completely different than the normal contractions. They were harsh, sudden and agonizing. I felt like I was utterly out of control and could not stand it." -Gena

Can I get an AMEN, pitocin sisters?

Why no drugs? Well, they wouldn't give them to me because the melon head wasn't making enough effort to get this over with already. Instead, we got more pitocin.

The conversations in my head went something like this:
Bring it on, baby.
Let's get this over with.
Just kill me NOW.
I'm going to do a Cesarean on myself.

Did you notice the little bruises all over his head? That's what happened at the end of those 26 hours of HARD LABOR. Melon head still didn't want to come out, even with forceps.

If you're pregnant, do not continue reading.

Besides being a melon head, he was in the posterior position. The doctor tried over and over again to turn him, but I guess melon head wanted to see what was going on when he came out, rather than face the floor.

If he had his eyes open, he saw quite a show. By the time the doctor figured out that melon head was good and stuck, it was too late for a Cesarean. Melon head entered this world seeing a nurse on top of the delivery table, straddling my big belly, pushing from the top while the doctor pulled with the 'tongs'.

Once melon head was out, the doctor said, "watch out for this one- he's a stubborn one".

I should have had those words tattooed on melon head's cute little baby butt. Truer words have never been said.

That being said, I fell hopelessly in love the moment he was placed in my arms. It was very difficult for me to be away from him for even a minute. This is how we slept for the first couple of weeks until SCROOGE (his dad) finally put his foot down and separated us:


Cameron, every minute of those 26 hours of hard labor, ending with a nurse straddling me while a doctor pulled you out were totally worth it. I'd happily do it again because being your mother has been a honor.

The older you get, the more I love you. That statement amazes me, because I thought I loved you more than life the minute I saw you. Multiply that by millions and that doesn't even come close to how I feel about you now.

Happy birthday, honey. You can't possibly imagine how proud I am of you and how loved you are. It would blow your mind. Trust me on this.

OK, I wasn't really- but if this doesn't make you cringe for poor Casey, I don't know what will.

He was about 10, I think, when this happened.

I remember the parking lot we were in, but can't quite recall what we were doing there. I'm sure that doesn't matter to you, but now it matters to me. Lessee.... there was a movie rental place, an ice cream place, and something else.

OK- forget it. I don't remember what we were doing there.

::ahem::

Caseygot the 'brilliant' idea to put a ketchup packet behind the wheel of my car so it would explode when I backed out of the parking space.

It exploded all right- all over the car next to us. I don't know how it is that I saw it happen (maybe Cameron and Casey were laughing- which always caused me to immediately look for the source of laughter), or maybe I saw the red splatter on the car. In any case, I pulled right back in the parking spot, turned around and asked the two lil' devils, "which one of you are responsible for this?"

Cameron , I'm fairly certain would have never owned up to it, but would have been my first suspect. Cameron takes after his mom just a little too much and was always pulling pranks.

Nope- this time it was Casey, who, being the kid born with a button down shirt and dress slacks, always owned up to anything he did wrong. If he didn't own up to things, he had a 'tell' (a poker term for something people do when they are lying or hiding something). When Casey told a lie, his lips moved in a very strange way. It was SO obvious to me that I think he finally gave up on lying to me after a few years.

It is kind of hilarious. Jessica, if you aren't aware of this little 'tell', let me know. I'll let you in on what he does. We women have to stick together, dontcha know. Kathy? Good luck with Cameron. I still don't have him figured out. He's goooooooooooooood.

Anyhoo......

After fessing up, I made him get out of the car and wait until the owner of the car came out. This was sheer torture for the lil' guy because he did NOT want to have to confess to those people that he messed up their car. He was begging me to not make him do it, but I wasn't going to let him out of it. I really did feel sorry for him, but thought it was the right thing to do.

Thankfully, the people were very nice to him after he confessed to them.

What he doesn't know is that when yours truly was a teen, I used to like to go up in the sky thingees at Disneyland (what are they called?) and squirt mayonnaise packets over the side to make people think they were pooped on by birds. Fun!

OK- not a proud moment now- but now you know that the whole squirting things with condiment packets is hereditary. Perhaps this is a part of the gene pool that shouldn't have been perpetuated.

Don't ask me why THIS came in my head, but if it doesn't make you laugh- I don't know what will. It's more of an uncomfortable laugh for me- but still funny...

During the summer, my elementary school held activities (most likely our parents idea so we'd stay out of their hair). It included crafts, outdoor games, and stuff like that.

When I was about 12 or so, just 'blossoming' if you get my drift, it was roller skating day. They had a record player (no 8 tracks, tapes or CDs back then, kids) and a loud speaker in the asphalt area and we skated in a big circle.

Boy, was I enjoying myself.

I was still not quite ready (but darned close) for a bra, and was wearing a summer blouse that tied at the shoulders.

The guy (who seemed old to me at the time, but now I'm fairly certain he was probably a young teen) who was watching over us kept trying to get my attention. In my noggin' I was thinking he could just wait until the song was over before I went to find out what he wanted. What on EARTH could be so important that I'd have to get out of line and quit skating with fervor and passion? Geez!

::skate:: ::skate:: ::skate:: and la-dee-da.

Eventually (probably seeming like an eternity to the poor kid) the song was over and I skated over to him. Turns out that one of the ties on my blouse had come undone and I'd been skating around with one of my little boobies out for all the world to see.

Even though that was MANY years ago, I *still* remember how uncomfortable he was in telling me that I was flashing everyone.

Good times..... good times......

I received an email from Casey this morning, sharing some pictures from his camping adventures of this past weekend with Cameron and other assorted friends with waaayyyyy too much testosterone. I've quit asking about what happens on these camping trips because I don't like knowing how dumb boys at that age can be. They've seen WAY too many episodes of Jackass.

By the way, we're still going strong with the 'Dumb' at 24 and 25....

A prime example of dumb would be, Cameron trying to stop his jeep from rolling away by jumping in front of it.

ER bill: 75.00 co-pay
Continuing visits to the knee doctor: 25.00 co-pay each
The fact that I can write about this blunder in my blog: PRICELESS!

When I saw the pictures from this year's trip, all I could think was, "Those boys".

OK, now imagine me saying it with my hands on my hips- shaking my head. That's more like it.

See this?


This is what happens when you go camping with my boys and you fall asleep before they do. In permanent marker, no less.

This is what the email exchange was between Casey and me this morning:

Me: You guys are TERRIBLE (but after my own heart!) I hope that wasn’t permanent marker.
Casey:Yes it was permanent. He had more stuff on his chest, right arm, and right leg. His fault for falling asleep in a chair at 10:30 with everyone still up.

I've seen the permanent marker for myself plenty of times when there were sleepovers at my house. In fact, I was a big fan of the marker at one time... but Cameron should be thankful that it wasn't permanent.



Click here to see my notes on the picture..

This, my friends, is why I slept with my door locked. 'nuff said.

I'm watching Oprah right now. The show is about children who are ashamed about the way they look. It started out with little girls choosing which doll they would play with- and it was always white even though they were African American.

The only thing that I've experienced that's come close to this was when I was in second grade. I have a last name that is sometimes thought of as Jewish. I remember in second grade that someone told me that my people killed Jesus Christ, which upset me a lot.

I remember letting this sink in and going home and asking my Mom about this. She explained to me what they were talking about, because I seriously had no idea. Come on, what second grade kid would know what this was about?

Now that I'm older, I can only assume that this prejudice came from their parents. I became the token "Jew" in my class for many years (Even thought I wasn't Jewish). It took a while for me to figure out why my teachers always assigned me the reports on Judaism. I guess I am kind of slow to catch on to things- but I always did the reports as asked.

A conversation from 7th grade that still rings in my head is as follows:

Teacher: Will you please make a report on this? ( I can't even remember what the report was about)
RG: I don't know anything about that
Teacher: Your parents go to Temple, don't they?
RG thinking: My parents went to the Mormon temple, yes.
RG: Yes they do....
Teacher: Go home and ask your parents about it.

And on it went. My parents, thankfully, were very informational about most religions because they are converts to the Mormon Religion and were very knowledgeable about other religions.

So, I became the token 'Jew' for many years. I guess I was living in a neighborhood that didn't have a lot of Jewish families.

I'm kinda glad now, because I learned a lot about the Jewish faith and think it's the most fascinating of all religions. I'd like to learn even more.

Anyhoo.....

As I watched this show I wondered what it was like to live with this all someone's life. I only experienced it in grade school, and it was, of course, wrong.

What would it be like to be judged on the color of your skin vs. your abilities and accomplishments?

I'll never know.

All I know is that I've always wondered even back in grade school, why people can't people just be themselves? Even at my young age, I wondered this. Judge me on my heart, not on my skin. And please judge everyone the same way. I'm absolutely willing to be judged against everyone on the planet based on my heart, and that's the way I judge everyone else.

The whole thing just makes me sad. We're all the same on the inside, right?