On Moms and Dads

Today is my mom's birthday. It still is, even if she isn't still with us. 

For Mother's Day, my daughter gave me a book entitled "I Want to Hear Your Story, Mom." It's a journal thingy with prompts to help me tell her my life story. I get it. I would have liked to know more about my mom, too, but here's the thing. I'm really bad at journaling, and part of that is because I tend to revisit things that are better left unvisited. I started filling it out, and quickly remembered why I didn't keep a diary growing up. This process did, however, remind me of some fun parts of my history, including the day I was born. My dad was traveling on business (I arrived a week early). My dad's secretary typed up a list of things the people in the office did to track my dad down (this was way before cell phones and instant contact were invented) while they awaited the birth of daughter number four. 

At any rate, while I'm working to finish the next book, I thought I'd share the mayhem of the day (after) I was born.