Back in December, my family doctor asked me if I wanted a flu shot. I was sick and tired of needles at that point and that was the last thing I wanted. Besides, I had no kids here and wasn’t expecting them back any time soon, so I passed.

About two weeks ago, I heard on the news that it wasn’t too late to get the flu shot. The kids had suddenly returned and since they are little and have a sister in grade school, I thought that maybe a shot wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

I went to the doctor’s on Thursday to get the results of some blood work and I totally forgot to ask the doctor to give me the shot!!

Fast forward to last night.

Somewhere around 4:30pm, I began to get a headache. Not a real one or a migraine, but one of those naggy-ass little ‘wanna-be” headaches. I took tylenol.  Just when I thought the pain relief would be kicking in, I lost the tylenol. It came out the same way it went in. I started to shiver. My skin began to hurt as if my clothing was lined with fiberglass. My back began aching. I was so uncomfortable, that I couldn’t relax my body enough to go to bed. Finally, mercifully, I fell asleep.

I woke up this morning feeling only marginally better. I ate some toast. My stomach was happy….

but my bowels were not!

I did a good deal of jogging today. Back and forth I ran to the bathroom. Which end of my body would revolt was a mystery until I got near the toilet.

Now, my stomach feels like it is twitching. My throat has a lump in it but I don’t think it is because I want to cry. My poor butt hurts and not from a night of debauchery.

I’ve got the flu.     

Valentine’s Day makes me think of love. Yes, of course I think of the love I have for my husband. I also consider the love I have for my kids and parents, etc.

But there is always one other love that makes it into my thoughts.

My first love. My first ‘real’ love. Jim wasn’t my first boyfriend. Nor my second. But he was the first serious relationship I ever had.

I used to go to my friend Peggy’s house alot. She was usually given the responsibility of picking up her niece after school and babysitting until her brother got home. I would go to her house to hang out, babysit, or swim in her pool. Jim was her best friend from childhood and he lived directly behind her.

One day, Peggy’s brother was going to be late getting home and he called Peggy to let her know. Now she wouldn’t be able to give me a lift home. Jim, however, was on his way to work and offered to drop me off on his way.

I thought he was so cute. He had great hair and since this was the late 70′s, he also looked hot in jeans and a denim jacket. We saw each other once or twice over the summer, usually in passing around Peggy’s house.

One afternoon, as he was driving to work, he passed my house. Whether this was planned or not, I never did find out. But he stopped and we talked for a bit and then he asked me out. He was 18 and a senior. I was 16 and a junior. He went to the all-boy school next door to my all-girl school.

Every morning, we would see each other for about 20 minutes. We would wring every second we could, running to get to our first classes before the bell rang. He got finished his day before I did, went home, and drove back to get me. We were inseparable.

At this time I also began to keep a diary. All of our secrets were kept for me to remember. I recorded our first kiss, our first date, the day he gave me his class ring, and the ‘other first’. All through the fall, through Thanksgiving and Christmas, we spent our free time together. I wrote about the day we snuggled in his house while a snowstorm blew outside, about the times I cut class so that I could go home with him. Yes…all the details.

For three months we were together. My parents began to worry that things were getting too serious. They began to cut back my privileges as far as “Jim time” was concerned.

Suddenly, our world began to unravel. No longer could I see him on Friday and Saturday nights. We had to choose one and even then, my curfew was only 10:00. My phone calls were restricted to ten minutes and if my parents noticed that my time was up, they would reach over my shoulder and hang up the phone.

My life became hell.

One night–the night I wasn’t supposed to be seeing him–he came to my house and asked if I would step outside for a minute to talk. With tears streaming down his face, he told me that he couldn’t go on seeing me for only what amounted to 24 hours in a week. It was too hard, especially because we couldn’t even spend time on the phone. As much as it hurt both of us, we agreed that it would be better if we split up.

I hated my parents. They saw how unhappy I had become. I wouldn’t speak to them. I barely ate in front of them. I blamed them for everything.

This lasted for two weeks. In an attempt to cheer me up, Peggy invited me to her house one night. A couple of other girlfriends were there. We did our nails. We listened to music. And then….Jim found out that I was there. He came over and asked me to talk to him. We sat down and he told me how much he missed being with me.  He was unhappy too. Could we get back together and try this again?

So we did.

I had also kept notebooks full of poetry and song lyrics that had special meanings to me. Unbeknownst to me, my mom would sit on my bed and read my poems. One day, she picked up the diary…..and read it cover to cover. It was her belief that we had broken up because I wouldn’t “give it up”. She believed that he only took me back because now he “was getting some”. This is why I refuse to this day to violate the privacy of my own kids.

Things remained tense at home. All spring we were happy, although things were different. If I wasn’t allowed out, there was tension. Was it my choice or my parents’? It was always questioned. We went to Jim’s prom and had a great time. We took day trips on the weekends.

A few weeks after that, we split up again, this time for good. He claimed that it just wasn’t the same anymore, but I found out later that he didn’t want to be ‘tied down’ with a girlfriend when he was free as an ‘adult’. I must have been more prepared this time, because it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did the first time.

We still ran into each other here and there. And I always sensed an unasked question in his eyes. But it was over.

On my wedding day, he appeared in the parking lot of the church. He asked if I was sure that Hubs was the man for “forever”. I was more sure than ever, but I admit that I was sorry that I couldn’t say what he wanted to hear.

I remember all of this. I remember the feeling of first love. I remember hating my parents. I remember the heartache. Even though I destroyed the diary and all the notebooks, I remember.

And when I tell my daughter that “I understand’, I really do.

Son2 has been going to concerts since about the age of 12. His best friend’s older brothers would take him and Mat to see bands like Korn. Finally Son1 and his friends were old enough to drive and they would take Son2 along. Somewhere along the way, Son2 became brave. He entered a mosh pit and a monster was born.

Every time he left the house to see a show, my heart would be in my throat until I heard his key in the door. He would come home with an impressive array of scrapes, scratches, bruises and once or twice, teethmarks.

Finally, this past year he decided that he-in his own words-”was too old for this shit.” He gave up mosh pits and crowd surfing. Since he lacks health insurance, this was a smart move.

He has been injured more since giving up this shit. Just last July, his nose was broken. On Friday night, his lip was split by a drunk who was aiming for someone else. But last week, what was almost a misadventure ended up being a night to remember.

Son2 went to see one of his favorite bands, The Dillinger Escape Plan. He arrived early enough to stake out a spot directly in front of the stage. They came out with their pyrotechnics and their grindingly loud music. Son2 sang along with the songs.

Suddenly, a surge began toward the front of the stage. My boy leaned back and braced his legs against the stage trying to keep the crowd from crushing those in front. This maneuver worked and the tide eased up allowing security to do their job. But while he was braced, someone pushed my son’s butt and back from below and he was lifted.

“Mom, I was lifted into position to crowd surf and my first thought was “oh shit! I don’t wanna do this!” I turned my head to yell at the guys below me and I suddenly felt the front of my shirt get grabbed.”

The lead singer had reached down into the crowd, grabbed my son’s shirt, and pulled him onstage!!!

Thrusting the microphone in front of my son, he said, “I watched you singing along and then I saw what you did. Come join us.”

And he did. For an entire set my son was the lead singer for Dillinger Escape Plan!  I WAS METALMOM FOR REAL!!!!

Because these things tend to get crazy, my son and his friends leave their cell phones in the car. Too many of them have been smashed and lost in the mayhem.

NO ONE WAS ABLE TO TAKE A PICTURE OR VIDEO OF THIS!!!!!!

My son feels confident that eventually something will show up on YouTube or My Space. I am hoping and praying that this is true.

Son2 deserves to have a record of his night in the spotlight.

You see the beauty in me that I doubt is there

You give me strength to face what stands before me

You make me laugh when my darkest fears peer around the corner

I want to be your guiding light

I want to be the peaceful place for your soul to rest

I want to give you the confidence to do whatever you desire

We are an unbeatable force

We are a passion that smolders quietly yet burns with its intensity

We are darkness and light

We are forever

“Lovin’ me…is easy cuz I’m wonderful…dooten doodly-doo…..AAAHHHHHH……”

First things first. I’d like to thank everyone who stopped in yesterday to wish me a happy birthday. Your wishes warmed the cockles of my heart…….Okay, laugh at “cockles”…..I’ll wait….

Now on to business.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, but how about if this year, you take the time to appreciate yourself for whatever reason you wish and at the same time, give others the opportunity to tell you what they love about you? (Special thanks to Hilly for letting us know that ‘self-love’ can be something other than what came to my dirty, dirty mind!)

The instructions are:

1.) Post one of the banners on your blog and declare February 14th as the day you not only love your one and only, but the day that you love yourself! (For those of you who need help, all you do is right-click over the image of your choice then click on “save as” and save it wherever you want.)

2.) Post one nice thing about yourself……then ask others to post one thing that they really like about you. The thing I like most about myself is the ability to speak the language of the little people (no, not the Leprechauns!) and the ability to lower myself to their level. (yes, this includes the talent for telling fart jokes to little boys)

3.) Enjoy yourself!

So everyone should have fun doing this instead of dwelling on the fact that today is FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH!! (Dun, Dun, DAH!!!!!)

February 12 is a special day in our family. It has been for the past 13 years.

Twenty-one years ago, my SIL was pregnant with her first child and the betting began. As a family that loves gambling, they began a pool, betting on what day the baby would be born, boy or girl, weight, and times. Although SIL wasn’t due until the 20th, I made my bet jokingly. “The baby will be born on my birthday”

And she was. A beautiful baby girl with huge blue eyes. She had not a hair on her head. When she did grow hair, it was the fairest downy blonde and it barely grew longer that an inch until she was three. She looked like Tweety Bird. She would become my favorite niece.

Eight years later, another SIL was pregnant. Again, the betting began. What are the odds of fate doing it again? So again, I jokingly said “The baby will be born on my birthday”. On the 10th, my SIL was having bad pains. Everyone said “Oh you were so close! I told you it couldn’t happen again!”

Oh, but it did. Again, on my birthday, a beautiful baby girl was born. She too had blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked exactly like her mother. She would become my favorite niece.

Today, I turn 47. Donna will turn 21. Sabrina will turn 13.

We will call each other….each attempting to be the first to wish each other happy birthday. Sometimes we stay awake and call at midnight. Other times, I have woken up at 4am and called them. They have woken me up at 6am. This has been going on since Sabrina turned 4 and learned how to dial a phone. (Now that phone is surgically attached to her hand–or at least it seems that way!)

Sabrina will have her first tween-aged party on Friday night.

Donna and I, however will celebrate with my SILs, and all the cousins over 21. We will “crawl” our way down a street lined with clubs, stopping into each one to toast to the ‘birthday girls’.

And yes, I called each of them “my favorite niece”. Every niece is my favorite niece. And every day with them is a special day.

Happy birthday, Donna and Sabrina. I’m gonna call you both FIRST!

Yep. That’s all.*

*My thanks to nataliedee.

Along the lines of yesterday’s post on coincidences, another coincidence caught my attention.

I am on Facebook (as are many of you). Lately, I have read posts in which the author remarks about old friends reconnecting.

I considered that to be the purpose of Facebook–to be a link to friends old and new. I have among my friends my daughter, a couple of nieces and more than a few high school friends. This isn’t unusual. What was unusual was reading about how many friends were finding old friends

As I read about my friends reconnecting with their past, I was happy for them. It was nice to read about them burying old grudges, reliving past crushes. When I started on Facebook, one of the first things I did was to look up friends from high school. I remember being a bit disappointed to find how few of us were there. You want to know what made it harder for me? I went to an all girl high school. We grew up and married. We married and…

WE CHANGED OUR NAMES! WE WENT TO COLLEGE! (or not)

It was a whole new identity. Now, when asked to identify ourselves, we say Mary ( married name). We are graduates of (college name). Now I don’t know who those people are!

But one day, as I was checking out a friend’s page, I saw a face pop out at me. Smart girl that she was, she had used her “maiden-married” name. I saw some of my blogger friends do this themselves. Why did I not think of that myself? Why did I not DO that myself?

Finally, I acted on it. I changed my Facebook name.

And guess what? My high school chums were not the ones who responded.

IT WAS GRADE SCHOOL!!!!  IT WAS MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD!!!!

Suddenly, I was chatting with the people who remembered the crazy perm my mom gave me. They remembered the supermarket that was sold and changed into a roller skating rink. They remembered the day I slid under the bus and broke my arm. They remembered running behind the “Mosquito Truck”!

They remembered so many things. But then so did I. I remembered that they dated the geekiest kid in class. I remembered the day that they fainted in front of the class and the time the nun said a bad word. I remembered sneaking into a neighbor’s yard and stealing their concord grapes off the vines. Among us we remembered so many things.

Surprisingly enough, many of us are within twenty miles of our parent’s homes. Even at that proximity to each other, we never ran into each other!

After years of wondering how to reconnect, we have a “Lost and Found”. It is a “lost and found” called Facebook!

I notice a lot of things.

I’m not talking about stuff like my shoelace is untied, or that spaghetti sauce splattered the side of my coffee pot, or that the sippy cup toppled over and leaked juice into a puddle on my floor. Those things, I won’t notice until I fall flat on my face, or my mom comes over and points out the spot, or I step in the puddle in my stocking feet.

No, I’m talking about cycles (or maybe coincidences).

For instance, I notice that on one particular day, four of the bloggers that I read will be talking about depression. Or on another day, three or more will be sick with the flu or a cold. Or possibly, two or more will be dealing with the ‘troll’ issue.

I notice that these posts will appear on the same day. There is not a possibility of copying another’s idea. It just so happens that, much like some women will get their periods on the same day, we, as bloggers are also in sync with our cycles.

It’s just a coincidence that this is happening to us at similar times. How often do we read that someone’s kid got in trouble for doing something stupid? And we reply…”OMG! Me too!” Or a couple is going through an incredibly hard time. And we reply…”OMG! So is my sister!”

As the year goes on, we will all deal with sickness, parents, kids, workplace drama, and money problems. All of us will. It is a fact of life that these things happen.

And they happen to ALL of us. And when we reply “I understand” it is because we do.

We when it happens to us, we need to remember that we’re not alone.

BWAHAHAHAHA!!!

*My thanks to nataliedee.