My Beginning

I don't have a big family. Well, let me rephrase that. I don't know if I have a big family or not. A lot of my past is a mystery. My mom has never really been the sentimental type, so I can't go through boxes of mementos, because there really aren't any. My Granny was a definite pack rat, but when she passed away, most of her things mysteriously disappeared. Ok, maybe it's not a big mystery, since my mom isn't very sentimental, and while no one ever spoke about throwing stuff in the garbage, it's not hard to guess that that's probably where most of it ended up.

Anyway, most of what I know (except for the things that I can remember) about my family and childhood came to me through conversations with my not-always-the-sanest-person-around Granny, and my not-always-the-most-honest-person-around mother. I never really knew any of my father's family, so I've got nothing there.

The earliest story of my impending existence that I can remember ever hearing about was the courtship, if you could call it that, of my parents. My mom was around 23 or 24, divorced with 2 kids. My uncle, the bar owner, introduced them. My dad was 16 years older than her, with two teenage daughters of his own. So after an amount of time that my mom can't remember, my honky-tonkin', boot-wearing, beer drinking mom was married to my suit and tie, hard liquor drinking, alcoholic, woman obsessed dad. Sounds like a match made in Heaven, right? Yeah...right.

After an amount of time that my mother can't recall, my dad apparently decided that being married was interfering a little with his social life, so he started dating. And he told my mom when he would go out on a date. Yep...you heard that right. I'm not really sure what was going on with my siblings at this time, as she never mentioned that aspect of her life. I'm guessing that the two teenage stepdaughters were probably left in charge of my sister and brother a lot. Anyway, a short time later, although my mom really can't remember how long (are you seeing the pattern, yet?), she became pregnant with me. She told my dad, who immediately accused of cheating. They separated. My mom had been working, so at least she didn't have to go out and find a job. My Granny was probably enlisted in the care taking of my brother and sister, because mom had to work, and, well, being pregnant was never an excuse for her to stop partying and drinking.

My mom worked until she was 8 1/2 months pregnant with me. I know this, because when talking about her five pregnancies and subsequent births, she is always very quick to point out that she gained less while pregnant with me than with any of my siblings. She gave birth to me and got my dad banned from the hospital when he came in drunk and started screaming that I wasn't his.

Now, ask any mother about bringing home her baby from the hospital and you will probably hear things like,
"I checked her every five minutes to make sure she was still breathing."
"I couldn't believe how beautiful he was."
"I didn't want anyone else to touch her."
"I couldn't stop staring at him."
etc, etc...

But the story about my homecoming, the story that I've heard more times than I can even count:
Mom: "I lost every bit of weight that I had gained when you were born! I went home and the next day I was able to fit right back into my "hot pants" and I went to the bar!"
Me: "Where was I, Mom?"
Mom: "Hmmm...I don't remember...I guess you were with Granny."

And people wonder why I'm screwed up.