Photo Books = Frustration + Mom’s Tears

I know I love my Mom because I spent over five hours creating a photo book for her tonight.

These hours, I might add, are after I uploaded pictures a year ago and created the formatting a year before that. Four hours to place pictures and over analyze who she might want to see in the book and who might provoke her to make an “ew” face.

It is done. If only my email confirmation will come, so I can review the totally overpriced gift that she totally deserves. I’m a good person; even if I promised her a photo book of our wedding four years ago; even if she asks where it is about every two to three months. I just stopped answering her about it because I dreaded the tedious task. I know, it sounds terribly selfish, but I’ve done very heartfelt things in the meantime to make her feel loved and I’ve brought tears of joy several times. I would buy almost anything to not have to create this book.  It’s not even a difficult thing to do, it’s just time consuming to get it right.  Maybe I try to hard to make things perfect, once I finally get around to working on them.

In the middle of my upload tonight, the program froze. I walked into the bedroom and woke my husband, (yes, another selfish move) and asked that he keep me calm and tell me I’m a good person before I went ballistic and threw the computer across the room. I tend not to be violent in nature but I despise when things don’t work like they are supposed to. So clearly I’m prepared for being patient in life. It’s just gadgets; I don’t have patience for flawed technology that costs me a fortune.

Needless to say, I’m 98% uploaded, even though the company already took my money.

I’m expecting tears of joy when this arrives to her door. I’m praying for tears of joy but I’ll likely get a “well, it’s about time” speech. I’m hoping for happiness and I hope she knows she was worth each agonizing second because I know she’s put herself in excruciating situations hundreds of times for her kids.

And with that; thank God that is done. My job as a daughter is done here; till her birthday next month.

If only I were the kind of person who gave giftcards.  My gifts may be late, but I have really good intentions and put a lot of sincerity into them.  They are just very very late.

Photo courtesy of Paul Avery Design.

My Best Friend Lost His Head

Shan and Tommy - Happy in Spring

When I’m searching for blog ideas, I look through pictures.  I found this one and it brought back happiness and devastation.  That is a bit dramatic, but when you’re little, things appear much more tragic.

No, it’s not because I look like a little boy in this picture, but it’s because my favorite doll, Tommy, had a rough life.  I was an only child until I was 8 and the only grandchild, niece etc. for almost the same amount of time.  Although I had many dolls and toys, Tommy was my favorite.  He was probably the cheapest doll I had too, which my parents probably loved, right?  It’s like buying the expensive toy and the kid loves the box.  He had yarn hair, cloth limbs and a cheap plastic head.  He had big cheeks like I did (do) and just had an overall happy face.

Although I love Tommy and we had many lazy afternoon naps together, tea parties and adventures, I have to say he lost his head.  No, literally, he lost his head.  The first tragic occasion came in the summer of my third birthday.  I vaguely remember, but I’ve also heard the story enough times that it feels familiar.  I went shopping with my Mom, because that’s what three year olds do.  Upon our return to our powder blue Honda Civic, Mom popped me into my car seat and then we saw it on the backseat.  Oh no, not Tommy.  Tommy’s cheap plastic head had gotten so warm in the summer heat, that the seal connecting him to his body let loose.

Tommy was decapitated by the summer sun.

Dad tried everything from glue to zip ties.  All winter, Tommy was safe, but the minute the weather became warm, there was no telling what might become of poor Tommy.

For now, Tommy is in a box with my other special friends.  He has probably lost his head in the attic more than once since he’s been up there, but I’m hoping he’s found some stability in his life.  When I saw Toy Story 3, I thought about donating my toys that are in my Dad’s attic but then I realized I’m too selfish and sentimental; at least with dolls like Tommy. The last thing I’d want is for him to blow his top for another young child.

Now that I think about it, Tommy isn’t the only one of my “friends” in my very early years to hit a rough patch.  Maybe I’ll share the tragic assault on Megan with you soon too.  Poor, poor Megan.  At least the pug lovers would laugh at it.