Skip to main content

18 years ago today.....

I went under the knife. I'll spare you the gory and painful details, but the end result was a man child. We named him Christopher, but called him Critter. He goes by Chris to his friends.

Today he turned 18 years old.


He wanted to go to Red Robin for dinner so that's where we took him. It was just me and the girls. Before we went, he made me promise not to say anything to the waitress about it being his birthday. He didn't want to be embarrassed by the singing and clapping that they do.

"I promise I won't say a thing"
I didn't promise I wouldn't write a note to the waitress on a napkin.

I held it up to her as I was ordering and he was looking somewhere else. She winked at me and I knew the singing and clapping was assured.

So while we waited for the burgers and fries, Steph and Chris did a bit of coloring.It's nice to see that although some things change, a lot of things don't.

Before the burgers came, he opened his cards and gifts from us and his Grandparents. See how happy he is? Ok, he doesn't LOOK happy, but trust me, he's happy.

The burgers arrived and there was the satisfied munching of all carnivores present. Then came the fun part! The singing and the red face of my son.

Allison asked to make the cake for Chris and she's been planning it for weeks. She made fondant for the very first time and here's the end result.


  1. I acknowledge that you do not welcome comments that allude to intimate acts, and that where you live in the Wild West things are done slightly differently, but I am shocked that you think that the act of conception involves "going under the knife". Over here, if one wants a baby, the act involves some embarrassment, lights out, a bit of fumbling and other activities that are too indelicate to mention, but hardly ever involve one partner ripping the intestines out of the other.
    I hope that this helps.

  2. Where were YOU 18 years ago? All this knife business could have been avoided.

  3. fun the pic where he is red! Good job on the cake Allison!!!


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)