Werewolves of DC

For the purposes of this blog entry, I'm going to refer to my husband as The Werewolf or variations thereof.  It's a nickname that's come from twitter and we kind kinda like it. :)

I had never been to DC, but The Werewolf had been several times.  Why were we there?  For a job interview.

Happy Birthday to my Mom

 Mom holding me when I was 4 months old.

My mom, Peggy, was born August 10th in the year none-of-your-damn-business.  She was the third of four children born to my grandparents, Hedwig and Benjamin.  She grew up in Akron, Ohio and went to the same schools as my dad, had many of the same friends, and yet the two of them didn't meet until they were 28 years old!  They got married after dating only six months, probably not the smartest thing either of them ever did.

Mom wanted to go to college but there was no money, so she took high school classes to help land herself a good secretary job.  She was so good that when her boss from one job was opening a new office he pretty much begged her to come work for him, which she did because he was a good boss (plus yay, a raise).  She left work when it was time to have me.

My mom is an awesome mom.  My dad was a firefighter which meant he worked a 24/48 shift - he was at work for 24 hours and off for 48 (unless he got overtime or there was a big emergency).

Mom and I were just discussing the fact that all the "adventures" happened when my dad was at the fire station.  I don't even remember the earliest instance of this.  Mom says there was a day when my sister and I were really little and Mom smelled gas in the house.  So she called the fire department (the local one, not the one my dad worked for) and took my sister and me out to the very back of our yard for safety.

The trend would continue when my sister and the two younger neighbor kids (who I and one of the older neighbor kids were supposed to be watching for a minute while Mom ran inside) decided to wander off into the wooded back yards of our neighborhood and get lost for half an hour.  Then a few years later during a thunder storm, a tulip tree right behind the house split in the wind and fell on the back of the house. Thankfully the damage was minimal but it started my dad's quest to eliminate all tulip trees in our yard.

The most memorable emergency while dad was at work, for both me and Mom, was in fifth grade when I fell and broke my ankle.  I was down the street at a schoolmate's house where a bunch of us were having a water fight.  The hose got involved and a big muddy patch developed.  I ran through it, slipped and fell on my ankle with my leg out to the side.  My friends encouraged me to walk it off like you do with most injuries as a kid.  Thankfully the pain told me not to listen to them.  My friend, Laurie, ran down to her house where she called my mom to come pick me up.  It's a good thing she did because my ankle was bro-ken. Snapped clean in half.  And my bone doctor said it was a good thing I didn't walk on it because I'd have needed surgery if I had.  But that was after Mom drove my soaking, muddy butt home, helped me change into clean dry clothes the only way I could - laying on the kitchen floor (while she also talked to my dad on the phone), and took me to the ER.

I have many more fabulous memories of Mom than ones where she's yelling (though she doesn't believe this).  Like picnicking under the big "witch tree" in our back yard, and all the summers she took us to Fell Lake pool (the best pool in the history of pools), and laughing so hard it hurt while playing board games at her house.  It was Mom who took me to my 2nd - 7th Moody Blues concerts; drove with me out to South Bend, IN to see "Weird Al" Yankovic; and was in Burlington, Ontario with me for a Scottish film festival to see actor Billy Boyd when the Iraq War started.  In short, she's fed my fandoms happily!  Probably because she usually gets sucked into them.  She was just as excited to see the Moody Blues as I was every year and she ended up a fan of Keith Olbermann even though she rarely got to see Countdown.  My calling her and recapping the show probably didn't hurt that...

Mom loves to sing and loves music.  When we were growing up it was lighter rock (which I still adore) like ABBA and Lionel Richie, though I did find out in my teens that she's always been a Bad Company fan.  Then as my sister and I got older we introduced Mom to "new" music like Pink Floyd (she loves "Comfortably Numb") Boston, Van Halen, and Fountains of Wayne.

My parents got divorced after 21 years of marriage, when I was a young teen.  No divorce is really easy but I think theirs was the easiest. Mom and Dad are still friends and as anyone who knows my family or reads my tweets knows, we all still have dinners together, celebrate holidays together, and do birthdays together.  My parents are great friends.  They just didn't work as a married couple.  Mom made a lot of sacrifices after the divorce to try to make things easier my sister and me. It worked, and I'll always be so thankful for all she gave up and wish I could repay her somehow.

I think it's obvious I could go on and on and on. I love my mom dearly and am so glad she's having her *mumble* birthday today and I hope she has at least a hundred more!!!!!!!!!