33 years ago today I was born. I don’t understand why I am celebrated today. I mean I showed up, But I didn’t really do anything. I arrived messy and crying (and relived a similar messy and puking for my 19th). I was late, 2 weeks late and the joke for a few years was that I hadn’t been on time since. My mom had gone into labour every friday for the 3 weeks leading up to my birth. My dad was doing some running around and didn’t think it was the real deal. My mom told me that he finally took her to the hospital when she threatened to have the baby in his car. She wasn’t in labor for long, a couple hours, and she threatened to kick her family doctor in the face. She also took me home right away. No messing with my mother, I guess I come by this running hot stuff honestly.
I was a big baby, well over 8lbs, despite that my mom says I was the most dainty pink delicate thing she had ever seen. 100% girl. Birth marks in all the right beauty spots. An “accident” my mom says, “the best mistake they ever made”. My dad lovingly called me Hollering Demanding Yellin (instead of Holley Amanda Helen). I was (am) so loved. They embraced who I was as an individual. I would like to celebrate my parents today, and everything they have done for me. I’ll have to phone my parents and wish them a happy “birthing day” because my bet is they have no idea what the date is!