A birthday story (written by me in haste). Once upon a time (32 years ago as of today) Janis Pendrys had a baby girl. Ive been told that she was very happy because she was already the mother of two boys and had always wanted a little girl. A girl that would to play with dolls, dress up her family of Cabbage Patch kids, host tea parties with stuffed animals and run around in tiaras and everything else colored pink and purple. Unfortunately, she got me. There were certainly early signs of trouble. The first real indication was Easter 1986 when I refused to wear a white Easter dress and spent the entire holiday in my room. First grade when I came home with a chain link in my hand after rescuing a stray dog. Second grade when I wrapped my arms and legs so tight around the back seat of her 1987 Ford Taurus that the spiral perm never happened. Bedroom walls covered with photos of Jerry Rice, Cal Ripken and Detroit Bad Boys instead of the latest Tiger Beat heartthrobs. Summer 1990 when Mary Welsh bet me $5 that I could ride my bike all the way down Knapp Rd.; I wiped out at the end and limped home for you to put my knee back together the day before Girl Scout Camp. Then there was third grade when she decided to check “cheerleading” instead of “basketball” for my extracurricular activity and I refused to move from under the bleachers until the grievous error was corrected. And who could forget the time our tree house collapsed on top of Brandon and I--my beloved middle brother who also managed to shoot me with a gun, a bow, and pushed me into a coffee table hard enough for a black lip and the dentist to determine that I had a broken nose. Not to mention ten years of paying Sarah Mercer to do my Girl Scout crafts for me since pulling those stupid bands on the potholder weave is harder than learning ancient Greek, along with Erika Ressa and I sneaking a portable TV to Girl Scout camp (and stealing marshmellows and chocolate bars at will). You’d think that a reasonable and well-minded daughter would out-grow all of this. Instead, this poor woman has endured the following (not a complete list, but David Letterman Top 10 style) 1. 1997: Breaking my collarbone and separating my shoulder in a soccer game; screaming like hell while you drove to the ER, punching the doctor that popped it back into place. 2. 1998: Calling you at work to take me to the ER with a broken hand; seemingly from playing basketball with Brandon & his friends. Confession: jumped off the roof into the pool. Wearing rollerblades. Now you know. 3. 1999: Blowing my knee out the first time; refusing to go to the doctor for a month; driving me back and forth to physical therapy all summer, only to have the rest of it get shredded because I was a stupid 16-year that just had to play basketball and soccer. 4. 2000: Biting your tongue when I turned down walk-on opportunities at Penn State, Tulane and Columbia University and a soccer scholarship at Montana State for undergraduate studies in order to follow a guy. Sorry for being dumb. 5. Fall 2000: Calling from a payphone in Paris, “Hi mom, random question. What do you do if you’re lost in France, wandered away from the traveling party and can’t remember the name of your hotel?” Thanks for the help, but you really didn’t need to call the U.S. Embassy. 6. 2003: Oil change in my Cavalier that turned into a brand new water pump that “I had no idea what happened.” Confession: Remember that time that Liz and I drove up to LSSU and you said not to go because of the blizzard? Hit a snowbank on the interstate. Brent, Wendy and Scott helped dig us out. Now you know. 7. 2006: Mom: “Hey, where are you?” “Key West. I’m fine.” “What?? Don’t you have to graduate from South Carolina this weekend?” “Yeaaahhhh….I met these people and we’re going to go parasailing in Fort Myers so I don’t think I’m going to make the ceremony. Didn’t you graduate No. 1 in your class? Yeahhhhh but I don’t think I need to be there.” 8. 2007 Hey, Im moving from South Carolina to New York. Im in Virginia right now byt just wanted to give you a heads up. 9. 2009 “Merry Christmas, I’m in Tijuana!” Later: “Hey mom, random question. So I’m in Hermosillo, Mexico and I misplaced my passport. Any idea how I can cross the border?” 10. 2010: “Hey. I’m fine. Im sorry, I know youve been panicking. I’m in New Mexico and my car is wrapped around a tree, but I’m fine.” So while today is my birthday, I ask you all to tip your hats to my mother, for both her patience and love for her sarcastic, not always forward-thinking and often restless daughter who tends to exist in her own first person narrative. Thanks mom for continuing to receive my calls. And not putting me up for adoption (not yet, at least). Love you!
Posted on: Mon, 04 Aug 2014 19:14:05 +0000