This is a scanned photo (
yes, scanned while still in the picture frame) of me, my father and mother circa
the year electricity was invented 1966-'67.
Just look at the happy smiles on everyone except baby Chesapeake Bay Woman, whose stunned look of disbelief is no doubt related to that haircut she's
suffering sporting.
Ever since that picture I've rebelled against bangs and bobs of any sort. We won't even talk about the Dippity Do they used to put on my hair. Oh, the humanity.
But this post is not about me or my
perceived indignities hair.
It's about my mother who is celebrating a birthday today.
Having a birthday on Christmas Eve really bites. She'll be the first to tell you so,
although I doubt she'd say "bites."
Birthday presents are usually an afterthought for the giver, who by the time Christmas Eve arrives is usually
ready to collapse from exhaustion focused on
surviving last-minute Christmas preparations. Birthday cakes get lost in the shuffle of fruitcakes, gumdrops, candy canes and eggnog.
Tonight, however, Chesapeake Bay Mother is throwing her own birthday party which will include a bounty of seafood. I've been told to bring a seven-layer Mexican dip, which
certainly cannot be confused with standard Christmas fare. Baby Sister will travel home from Richmond to help us celebrate. Unfortunately Middle Sister, who lives in Georgia, won't be with us as she is preparing for
a trip to Jamaica her own Christmas celebration there
far away from this bunch.
Although I live right next door to my parents, and Baby Sis is not that far away, we really don't get together as often as we should. This birthday party is bound to be loaded with fun and laughter.
And seven-layer Mexican dip.
Before I close, I'd like to share a story involving my mother and Christmas--but not necessarily her birthday--because an inability to separate her birthday from Christmas appears to be the theme of this post.
One year she was performing the seasonal dance we all know called Decorating Under Duress, the Stress Edition. She had decorations everywhere and cords---miles and miles of Christmas lights, some old and some even
older than that--stretched and entangled all over the living room floor.
As her mother mopped her brow and hollered for Baby Sis and Middle Sis to break up whatever fight they were in, Chesapeake Bay
Angel Oldest Sister decided it was time to lighten things up a bit and do away with all this tension in the air.
Just as my dear mother bent over to plug some half-frayed cord of lights into a socket to make sure they worked, Chesapeake Bay
devil Oldest Sister clapped her hands sharply and loudly.
Pop!
You know, the sound one might hear just before being
electrocuted shocked from a frayed electrical connection.
Well, some of us found it funny. Others did not. And that's all I have to say about that.
Other than:
Happy Birthday, Chesapeake Bay Mumma!
We love you.
