Well, Since Malice Reads...

...I guess I'll update tonight.

Today was Morgan's ninth birthday. My step-dad's mom and sister came to the house from Iowa to help us celebrate; we all gathered around the table, lit the candles on the cake, Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Morgan, make a wish, blow out the candles, whoosh!, eat the cake, open the presents, Show it to me so I can take a picture!

This kid gets everything. She has everything, and nothing all at once.

For her ninth birthday, tonight, for example, she got a new soccer ball, a couple Wii video games, some new clothes, a few gift cards, a brand new set of golf clubs and some good old cold, hard cash. Now, I wasn't deprived as a kid--I led a normal, middle-class, suburban childhood--but I wasn't in the lap of luxury either. My parents struggled to get by, but still provided me with the best possible childhood they could afford. In fact, after Moe opened all of her presents tonight, my mom commented, "Andrew used to get oranges for his birthday."

Oranges. I remember that. Every birthday, I'd get an orange.

I think back to those days often--the days of my childhood. Every now and then, I get a little bitter about my upbringing. I sometimes resent being raised a lower middle-class suburbanite; in the words of Ben Folds, "Y'all don't know what it's like to be male, middle class and white." I sometimes resent not having everything money can buy when I was Morgan's age. I sometimes resent those damned oranges.

Then again, I was raised in a house with my dad and my step-mom, and they were in love. I was raised by two parents who, though they didn't get along all the time, stayed together and remained faithful to each other. Morgan will never be able to say that. When she talks to her kids about her childhood, she'll say, "My parents stayed together for ten or so years, but they hated each other the whole time. They fought incessantly and your grandmother was actually having affairs with several other men."

I thank God for that history and I sincerely hope my sister doesn't grow up to forsake her upbringing.

1 comment:

  1. Sweet! I made your title. Now I can say that maybe I accomplished more than finishing a jug of milk this week. :-) Hang in there, DrewMoo.