Posts Tagged ‘unwanted children

21
Apr
08

My First Manic Episode!

AWWWWWWWW!! Just look at the cute little baby nobody cares about! COOCHIE COO!!!

Aaaah, such sweet innocence. Those were the days. Those were the days.

Yes, party peoples, please turn your eyes just slightly above and just over to your left so that you can fix them upon our Exhibit A right here. Yeah, right there. Perfect. If we’re all on the same page here…and I think we all are… I just want to make sure, ok? Just want to ensure we’re all checking out the same babe.

Yeah, that babe. She sure is cute, huh? Well, check it out, because that sweet little package of goo-goo-goo-goodness just happens to be me. Yes, me. See? Told you I was a babe from the day I was born. Now you have the picture as proof.

I was so sweet and tender, Martha Stewart would have paid some serious cizzash money to get her hands on me…for soup. You did know that’s what that big ass kettle she’s stirring in the intro for “From Martha’s Kitchen” is for, right? No, there are no damn potatoes in that thing! Those are babies boiling in there!

My biological mother surely would have sold me to her, because if I remember correctly, Mama told me they paid about $500 in green stamps from the old Piggly Wiggly and a lifetime supply of Pall Mall Lights 100s. I’m sure Martha would have given her a much better deal. Martha would at least throw a nice set of her cookware and some sheets to sweeten things up.

You know, I remember that day this picture was taken. I remember I was all grins right there because I could see somebody headed my way. Hooray! Someone might actually pay attention to me today! I hope they want to stay and play. Or perhaps pick me up and hug me or kiss me. Hugs and kisses sure feel good, I know, because I got one from the neighbor boy next door last week. I don’t know why I always hear mama calling that poor boy a pervert, he always seems real sweet to me. But I guess I have to appreciate whatever stimulation I can get, cause mama is usually to busy with her stories to entertain me.

It looks like she’s got something in her hands. Maybe it’s a present or a toy for me! Yay! Maybe it’s a holiday! At least on holidays Mama and daddy stop and talk to me.

Oh, wait, oops..uh…oh, it’s just mama throwing in my crib some more crossword puzzles and her old Reader’s Digests she’s all done with. She usually does that to make sure I have something to keep me occupied while she’s watching her soaps. Mama takes her stories verrrrrrrrrrrrry seriously, and I had to learn the hard what happens to bad girls who interrupt them.

Like the other day, I wet my diaper right in the middle of AS THE WORLD TURNS. I knew it was really bad timing, but I just couldn’t help it. Well, Mama got really mad at me because she missed the part where Dr. Bob Hughes put Sandy into the Oakdale sanitarium after she got burned by the fire. I’m guessing it was so important to her because Mama spent a little bit of time in the sanitarium herself, but that was before I was born. She probably wanted to see if the place still looked the same.

So, to teach me my lesson that I needed to learn to wait until I saw either the Tidy Bowl Man or Mr. Clean before I could pee (oh, and if I saw the ChuckWagon, I was good ,too),
I had to spend some quiet time alone in Mr. Albert’s sock drawer. It really wasn’t so bad, it was the one with all the dress socks, and those are really nice and smooth, {Editors Note: “Mr. Albert” is Mama’s “pet name” for LeDonna’s daddy. P.S. He’s Chinese!

So yeah, I was pretty cute back then, wasn’t I? Yeah well, that didn’t last long. See, since I was adopted, I wasn’t able to breastfeed, so I had to drink formula from out of a can. The problem was, I guess I had some kind of a “milk allergy”,and my parents had one hell of a hard time finding a formula that I could actually digest. Finally, she decided that she was just going to start making her own formula for me at home for scratch. And wouldn’t you know, it turns out pureed twinkies with some non-dairy creamer and just a touch of Ovaltine was just what the doctor ordered. Never had a problem eating since. One small side effect-I did octuple my birthweight within the first year and looked a little bit like Verne Troyer as The Michelin Man, but hey! I was fed.

One of my mother’s favorite things to do was dress me up. She loved it so much, she made sure I was dressed to the nines each and every day of my infancy. My mother had always been a bit of a fashionista , and she had a keen sense of style she had honed during her formative years at one of Caddo County’s most prestigious orphanages, The Ursaline Orphanage in Shreveport. {Editor’s Note: “Orphanages” are a lot like “Boarding Schools”, just with 2 key points of distinction. #1) all the kids are poor and #2) the children’s parents are most likely dead, and even if they aren’t, they’re not coming back for the kids EVER, in contrast to those parents of boarding school students , who will be happily picking up said child at the end of the academic year while on their way to dumping them off at summer camp.}

Mama always made sure I had lots of clothes, and I had all of the finest leisure suits and patent leather shoes that could be found at Weiner’s and Montgomery Wards. Mama was even so ahead of her time, visionary that she was, she had herself a personal shopper. Ms. Weebos at Sears used to call Mama all the time and let her know when fashion favorites such as my Florida Orange Winnie-the-Pooh polypropylene jumpsuit or sassy Captain Kangaroo/Mr. Green Jeans reversible modacrylic 2-piece pantsuit sets were in stock.

Mama even used to take me shopping at the big Neiman Marcus store down at the Galleria, but she stopped because one time I was being bad and I fell out of her arms while we were riding on the escalator. Lucky for me, daddy was able to swoop down and rescue me after I’d only fallen 4 or 5 steps. I wasn’t heard too badly though, and as the story goes, I was still just a laughin’ and a grinnin’, even as daddy was having kind of a hard time prying my pinky finger out from between the plates at the bottom of the steps. It hurt a little, but it wasn’t too bad. Nothing that a good rubdown with Daddy’s homemade Chinese whiskey medicine wouldn’t heal up real nice.

One of my Mama’s favorite stories to tell me is that she used to love to dress me up like some of her favorite TV stars. Sometimes it would be a leather jacket and sunglasses, and I’d get to be Kojak. Other times, it would be a welvet suit with a ruffled jabot…so I guess I was Yul Brenner doing a guest spot on the Partridge Family? I’m pretty sure I had a Barnaby Jones look too, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was.

My Top 3 guesses as to what I must have been thinking in that picture?
1) I guess I better savor this one last gasp of happiness, cause from here on out, my life sure is gonna SUCK!
2) The man who is holding me claims to be my father, yet suspiciously looks just like the Grinch. What’s up with that?
3) Ok, guys..who put the lampshade on my head? C’mon now…yeah, that’s funny, but c’mon, it itches, couldja get it off? Oh c’mon now! Gosh, you guys suck.. (pout)

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