Home of the Bellingwood Series – Nammynools

Lunch with Carol

Summer 1964 - Jamie was only a few months old.
Summer 1964 – Jamie was only a few months old.

I’m the older sister … let’s just say that I wasn’t any too happy when Carol came into the world. A perfectly normal and happy, only child, my life was completely disrupted. Mom loved telling stories of how within days of Carol coming home from the hospital, I began wetting the bed. Not only that, once I climbed into bed beside Mom, I’d wet her bed. She took to placing a stack of towels next to her so she didn’t have to clean things up until the next morning. Poor Mom.

That wasn’t her only story about this apparent revolution I was trying to stage. I was learning to read at about this same time and Mom had a set of flash cards she used to work with me. It soon became really fun entertainment to bring those flash cards out whenever we had guests, because I read through each one of them with great pride until she came to the card for “baby.” That word did not exist in my vocabulary and I wasn’t about to acknowledge its truth.

Summer 1964 - I had no idea Mom dressed us in matching outfits so often. How cute is this?
Summer 1964 – I had no idea Mom dressed us in matching outfits so often. How cute is this?

Fortunately for everyone involved, it was only a couple of years later that my brother was born. It was quite clear that I no longer had any hope of returning to the only child status and it was easier to acquiesce and adapt.

I love my siblings. I’m thankful for them. We are all quite different but that only adds fun and excitement to the relationships. Right?

Carol and I met for lunch today – we exchanged equal amounts of stuff. I keep thinking that if I give her enough of the stuff from my house, I’ll begin emptying it. Oh no … she gives new and fun things back to me. We had a wonderful lunch and chattered like magpies. Seriously, we chat with each other nearly every evening, either via messaging or the phone and there never seems to be an end to the things we want to tell each other.

She’s got a hell of a job – teaching fifth graders. The biggest thing I remember about my fifth grade class was having to explain to my teacher that I needed to see the nurse because my period just started. She handled it with aplomb … as a much older teacher, she’d probably had more than a few girls go through that in her classroom. Carol not only has the normal things teachers face, but today’s kids seem to have so many more emotional and mental issues that they bring with them. She loves them, scolds them, holds them accountable for their actions, teaches them how to share, love and engage with each other, all while educating them according to the standards set forth by our absolutely insane educational system. (I have opinions about this … they don’t really matter, I guess.) I’m proud of her … and grateful that she belongs to me.

The only thing I don’t get is that she doesn’t understand the importance of knowing every detail about the television show “The Blacklist.” Come on, Carol.

Okay, okay. She brought me a huge bag of M&Ms. That means I can get back to work digging through the manuscript. One more week, folks! Only one more week. It’s almost here!


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