Sacramento Parent Magazine

You would have celebrated your 60th birthday today. I was eleven the last time you celebrated a birthday. Funny, I don’t remember any of your birthdays when you were alive, but I remember every one since you have been gone. I did not understand then, why you left this world so early. Now, I understand how hard life must have been for a thirty-eight year old dad. I get it every time my 3 year old suffers a seizure. I get it while sitting in emergency rooms holding his limp body knowing I will receive yet another medical bill. Or every year I use all my sick time at work to care for him working nights and weekends to make up the hours. I get it when I work at a job that gives nothing back for the benefits even though I should be at home shielding him from illnesses.

Now I know how marriage can be so blissful and smothering all at the same time.

It’s hard to be carefree at this age but it is also so unbelievably young to let it all go. I have forgiven you for taking your own life and leaving behind 3 young girls forced to grow up faster than time was supposed to allow. I miss you but I understand. Each day I deal with life I understand. I have taken a different route than you and will make it through, to show you that it’s better to be here than gone. You have shown me how important it is to stay and face your reality and for that I thank you.

I look at your grandson and realize he doesn’t know you, but he has pieces of your soul inside of him and I see it in his humor and love for practical jokes. So I still get to see a part of you everyday and as I write this he is planning a birthday party with all his stuffed animals and when we blow out the candles on the “cake” he make believes, I will wish for him to live a long and full life because that is what matters most.

I am evil. No, I would say I am clever. Three weeks ago I attempted to take the little buttercup for a haircut and hit a road block. Not realizing he had developed a near catastrophic phobia of haircuts, I announced one day, “Let’s go get a haircut then we can have a picnic in the park!” Feeling smug, like I had the best idea since adhesive tape. Buttercup was not feeling the same way and the tears and temper tantrums ensued. I tried for two hours to calm him down. After envisioning the freak out in the salon, I decided it wasn’t worth it and we just went to the park.

Well he was starting to look like a Beatle gone awry so I made the appointment, and “accidentally” made it for the day I knew I would have to go into work. A few days before, I asked my husband if he could take him and he seemed to pause for a second before he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure.” He obviously didn’t recall what I told him had happened three weeks prior in which I feel no guilt because maybe he should LISTEN to my stories every once in awhile.

I was at work on d-day when I received a text message that stated, “CHRIST-YOU OWE ME BIG TIME!!” I looked at the time and saw it was 45 minutes after the appointment should have started. Yikes. I simply replied, “Really? What happened?” Then I got the phone call.

Apparently toodles screamed bloody murder and brought the entire salon to a screeching halt. My husband had to sit in the chair and hold him down so he was covered in hair and was not happy about it. I also know that for all of Riley’s life if he starts to have any type of verbally elevated protest in public, my husband freaks out and wants to leave. Wow, he must have been mortified.

My only payback was the poor hairdresser whacked off all of Riley’s hair, probably due to haste and he looks like a cop. I can’t even take him seriously when I look at him. My sister suggested I buy him some mirrored sunglasses to go with his new look.

Here is Riley’s letter to Santa as scribed by his preschool teacher:

Dear Santa,
I would like lights. I would like green lights. I want trains too. I’ve been good. I don’t want to leave you a snack.

Love,
Riley

For those of you frequenting Auburn, I just wanted you to know I emailed Chili’s Bar and Grill to request a restaurant to be opened in the area. It is something I like to do-email corporations with inquiries. While in college, I emailed Jack in the Box repeatedly, requesting a location in Humboldt County. I got a few friends involved and we wrote long emails, detailing the deliciousness of the food and to quote, “Even though it is not good for my waistline, I just can’t resist the lure of those yummy tacos.” Well several months later, a Jack in the Box did appear and I couldn’t even get in the parking lot on opening day because it was such a madhouse. Too bad a year later I got food poisoning from another Jack in the Box on a road trip and haven’t been there since.

I also was at work one day in a boring cubicle, answering phones, and I opened a bag of Jolly Ranchers and to my dismay there weren’t any of the apple flavor. Feeling cheated, I called the number on the back of the bag and explained my predicament. The customer service rep was very apologetic and said a new bag was on it’s way. Thank goodness, I realized after I hung up, that the bag I was currently holding was NOT supposed to have any of the apple flavor being that it was the tropical variety.

A few months ago, after purchasing a CamelBak water bottle I emailed them because I could not figure out how to drink all the water out of the bottle. I sent them a nice email asking if they had actually tested any other bottles and if they could recommend another bottle. Someone from the company sent me a equally courteous email offering to send me a sample of a different bottle. Well…in the meantime I had figured out the bottle and let’s just say it had to do with my ability to use a STRAW. If I didn’t tip the bottle up, it worked fantastic. Not wanting to rip them off of another hydration utensil, I sent back a sheepish reply which I am sure along with my other email was posted in the break room with Dumb Customer of the Month award on it.

So hopefully all of us will soon be enjoying our baby back ribs with a presidente margarita..so far they are sending the request to the real estate department…and I have friends sending in emails…