A Rosie Retrospective...  

rm_wildwestrose 56F
108 posts
8/21/2006 11:58 pm

Last Read:
8/23/2006 6:11 pm

A Rosie Retrospective...

For anyone who might want to know a little more about me...here's all the dirt!

1959:

December 13th was certainly newsworthy, as that was when yours truly made her appearance. Not much I remember here, jumped into the last 18 days of the decade a little bit early, and certainly too small. I was only 19 inches, and weighed only 5 lbs, 10 oz.

Can you believe that my Mom's doctor was angry with her because she had gained a whole 18 pounds during her pregnancy, and he PUT HER ON A DIET!!! He even threatened her with putting her in the hospital if she didn't stop gaining weight. What a crock! What a Quack!

I am joining a family that consists of my Dad, Wyatt; my Mom, Claudia; and three brothers, (Wyatt Jr., Sean, and KT) and one sister, Cathie. My Dad is a Navy Chief, and since Navy Chiefs don't make enough money to support 5 children, my Dad joined the "clip club' so there would be no more bundles of joy.

Mom couldn't use birth control because she is a Catholic, and Catholics can't NOT have babies. My Dad is a Baptist. Hah! Take that Mr. Pope!

1960:

Again, not much to remember, but they tell me that I had pneumonia when I was only a few months old, which will make my lungs really weak, and a rheumatic heart. That means that my heart is damaged, and it "murmurs" sometimes. I've never heard it talking to me, either out loud or murmuring.

Also, there are tales of my narrow escape from a faulty electric blanket which caught on fire, but I'm still alive because my Mom threw me into a laundry basket and ran outside with me.

1961:

Aaaarrrgghhh! I must have early Alzheimers! I have no memories of this time. Did aliens perform a brain-suck on me? Why can't I remember anything from this time frame?

What's that? You mean no one remembers anything when they are only one? Oh.

Nevermind.

1962:

I am becoming aware of the people around me. Mostly, I am around the evil, scum-sucking beings called "brothers" and the possibly even more evil being called a "sister"!

They tease me, they torment me, they won't allow me to do anything with them, and they run off laughing as I toddle after them trying to keep up. I just want to play with them. Why won't they play with me? Where is Stewie when I need him?

Of course, there are the darling women who coo over me, and allow me to do anything I wish, just 'cause I'm sooooo cute! Mom takes me wherever she goes, and I guess she is some sort of "PTA Goddess". Not quite sure on the concept, but it allows me to color on large sheets of butcher paper in the back room of the school office. Everyone remarks on how good I am, and how well behaved.

Hah! I have them fooled! Next year, I shall take over the world! Ummm...could someone please help me get up on the potty? Thanks.

1963:

This is the year! The world is my oyster! Complete dominion is within my grasp, and I believe I shall start right here on these roses in Mrs. Clevenger's back yard. Yep, these clippy things are wonderful. I take a handle in each hand, put the long metal sharp things around the flower stems, and go CLIP! With them, I can make lots and lots of flowers hit the dirt! Mrs C. won't mind. In fact, I am HELPING her. Yep, that's what I am doing! And, after all, I AM the darling of the bridge club.

All of the ladies adore me. I guess they are all REALLY old, I mean, my mom is only 35, they must be at least 50, or maybe even 60! They have grey or blue or purple hair, and they smell like powder and perfume. They call me Poopsie, and give me toys and stuffed dolls that they make for me. I am allowed to run free during the bridge games since I am sooooo good.

Urk. Maybe I just screwed that up. Here comes Mrs C. and my mom. They are NOT happy with me. I don't know why some of the ladies look amused, 'cause Mom sure isn't! Mrs C. isn't acting too mad, more hurt and upset, talking about her prize roses...guess I'm in ducky-doodoo.

And here's another thing. See, I KNOW who my family is. But one day, we go somewhere, and there is this guy there that my Dad keeps calling "Son". And then everyone tells me that this old guy (He must be all of at least 18!) is my brother, Rich. And since he gives me all of his pennies, I figure that he must be RICH, and that coincidentally, his name is Rich. Pretty clever of me to figure that out, don'tcha think?

Within a few months, I have weaseled at least 6 bucks worth of pennies out of him and his barracks mates. What the heck a "barracks mate" is, I have no clue, but as long as he adds to my piggy bank, I'm cool with him. I still haven't figured out just WHY I have a brother that I have never seen before, but hey, he doesn't drop me on my head like the other brothers do, so I don't mind him.

Speaking of my tender little head...my Dad is the coach of a Pony League Team. Now, there are lots of horses where I live, but I have never seen any of them there at the field. Nope, instead, there are a bunch of boys there, hitting a white ball and chasing after it. Everyone gets so excited, and they say things like, "Hey batterbatterbatter Sssss-Wing!".

I don't know why they say those silly things, and all of it is pretty boring to me, so I just like to wander around the bleachers and play in the dirt. Don't know why they call them bleachers though. They don't help bleach out my clothes when I get them all dirty and dusty.

But one day, I was wandering around behind the backstop, where my Mom told me to stay because it is safer there, when all of a sudden, I felt something hit me on the top of my head. Everyone was yelling and screaming, and I just stood there, wondering what had happened.

Everyone came running towards me, still screaming, and so I figured that if THEY were all screaming, I should scream too! The more they screamed, the louder I did. Finally, all of the screaming scared me so much, that I started to cry. Apparently, a foul ball had come over the top of the backstop, and it had landed on my head. Everyone was worried about the after-effects, but I haven't noticed anything wrong. *Twitch*

Then one day, my Mom took me to Aunt Evelyn's so she could baby-sit me so my Mom could take a test. I like Aunt Evelyn, she lets me feed her goldfish, and we play the game with the plastic monkeys who catch each other with their S shaped arms. She used to let me play the game with the cherries, until I chewed up too many of them. She even lets me blow through a straw to make bubbles in my chocolate milk! How's THAT for a cool baby-sitter?

She isn't really my Aunt though, she's a neighbor who is good friends with my Mom. I have a lot of Aunts like her. So anyway, Mom took me there, and then she went away for the whole day.

When Mom came to get me, she was really upset. When we got home, she turned on the TV, and there was a lot of talk about the President being dead and other stuff. I tried to make her feel better, and I figured that when Dad got home, he would fix things.

But somehow things didn't get fixed. Everyone was so sad for a long time. I remember that the President's little boy was going to have a birthday, and it was so sad because his Daddy had died. My birthday was coming up soon, and I knew what it was like sometimes to have my Daddy gone for a long time. He is in the Navy, and he has to go on long trips. But he always comes home.

I think I will stop for right now. Maybe I will come back later to tell you more about me.



rm_babyboomer26 66M
898 posts
8/22/2006 7:44 am

My dearest darling honeypie sugarlips Rosie,

The baseball to the head story explains a lot.

Love eternally,

Your Secret Admirer


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