


Aunt Gloria had done more than bake a cake for that baby. I guess we were a little jealous that there was a party for somebody else, other than us. There was a huge pink cloth sign that the ladies signed with good wishes. Mommy kept that in her closet next to other things that she would beat us with, when we were naughty. We would go into the closet and use it as a dress up cloth and get beaten to smitherenes. We didn't realize it was sacred. The ladies made such a big deal of Amy's birth. I guess that was when mom felt accepted in the other side of the family and named Amy, after grandma. (just maybe, conjecture, mind you) What a dear girl Amy was and we harrassed her something aweful.
Mommy kept asking us to take her to the potty and tie her shoes and we were old enough to do those things but not without a smack and a pinch to the baby, first. Amy thought everything was hers. That is mine, she would say, all the time. Mine, mine, mine. Grandma Monica would say to Amy, your day will soon come. Hasn't it come? My fulbright sister! Out shining all of the others, in spite of us.
I like that the ladies cared enough to give a shower for the 5th baby. All of the Rosarians were there and blessing mommy and we children remembered with fondness. A mommy definitely needs that at that point. It feels like a bon-voyage, at that point. Well, if I am going to die, this is the way to go, is the spirit. I know Aunt Glo knew that.
Mom was still young and naive about those things, but she was taking it all in stride, just the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment