Ever Have One of Those….

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January 28, 2014 by trixiec67


How does that saying go?

Have you had one of those . . . days . . . weeks . . . months . . . years . . . lives?

I think I can answer “yes” to each one of those questions. Sarcastically, humorously, literally. I do try to laugh at myself when I’m around people. This usually happens when I’m in public and speaking to total strangers. Somehow, I inherited an uncanny ability to talk to just about anybody. This skill came from my father. God rest his soul.

As a youngster I viewed this as annoying or at times even embarrassing. Now, I do it to my children. Isn’t it amazing how one day we look into a parental mirror and discover we have morphed into…..God forbid….OUR PARENTS!!  AAAHHHHHH We swore to ourselves that it. Would. NOT. Happen. We even made a pact with our siblings that if any of us began to mummble anything that closely resembled anything our parents said to US we promised each other we would slap each in the face and knock us back into reality. We would NOT turn into our parents.

The sad truth is, it begins to sneak up on us sooner than we realize. Some of us are in our twenties and we start sounding crotchety. If we see uncontrolled little monsters in public we go all “old” lady or “old” man, making comments out loud that others can hear because the parents can’t control their “brats”. Then suddenly, reality hits. Your eyes widen and you dash out of the store, run through the parking lot to your car and jump inside turn up the radio and scream, “OH MY GOD, I’M MY MOTHER!” (or father)

Take comfort in knowing it has happened to the best of us. Notice however, we call up a sibling to announce that we have begun turning into one of our parents. Yet we never ask for that slap. This is because they will begin to spill on their experience of when they first realized that they too morphed into mom and/or dad. Because let’s face it, you’re going to have an arsenal of sayings from BOTH parents stuck in your head from over the years. Here are some of my favorites:

*Don’t touch that stick! How do you know if a dog didn’t pee on it!

*Clean you plate. There are kids starving around the world.

*Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.

*(Upon entering the home of a relative, whispered into an ear:)When we get in there you stay with two feet in one shoe!

*(Relative has a table filled with food:)Don’t you dare touch a thing unless they offer it to you and don’t ask for anything! Not even water!

I’m not sure if any of these little gems were just because my parents were so big on discipline or because both my parents are/were pure bred Italians. My wonderful mom is still with us. Dad passed away a few years ago. He was born overseas. Mom is Canadian. However, her father was born “in the Old Country” as well. It’s actually kind of rare these days to find someone who doesn’t have a mixture of ethnic backgrounds. But that’s me. I am American born. Yet I consider myself a full-blooded Italian. Looking at my father’s perspective, I am first generation in this country. I am proud both to be American and to be Italian. I love my ethnic heritage.

The difference between myself and my siblings is that #1 I am the the sickly child in the family. Mom and dad should have taken the hint when I rolled off the changing table at seven months and broke my left leg above the knee. My poor 4′ 10″ mother had to lug me around in a half body cast that went from my waist to my ankle. She said I would have walked if it weren’t for that cast. #2 More injuries just kept coming as I aged; ate a bottle of baby asprin, got my stomach pumped (before child proof caps); foot caught in the spokes of a bike, stitches between toes (all this before the age of 4)

As I’ve gotten older, it’s only gotten worse. I accept it as my lot in life and I just deal with it. I’ve never asked why I have all the defects I have. I just ask to help me get through the pain. I pray for strength, courage, perserverance. There’s a song that gets me through too. It’s by Rodney Atkins. I bought the CD just for that song and then I read the song was inspired by the speech that Winston Churchill delivered to the troops the evening before D-Day. The words come directly from his speech. If you have time, give it a listen and realize the impact. The song is: If You’re Going Through Hell.


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