31 January 2006


My mom, the lovely and gracious Grace McGinn, is a new reader here at Ciao Baby! When she first asked if she could read my blog, it was clear (because she's articulate) that she was apprehensive about the content.

I know folks who blog and hang their virtual dirty laundry out for all to see. It took a little reassuring to convince my mom this wasn't one of those lines. She asked me, "Do you talk about hating your childhood?" Hmmm...I got to thinkin'.

If my upbringing had been shady, I'd have a lot more comedic material to work with. As it is, I can't poke fun at a drunken step-father or a grandma who forgets to wear pants on a regular basis. Nope, no stories about trying to open a Spaghetti-O's can with a hammer while I was unsupervised after school. (Although, while watching Romper-Room, I DID get a finger caught in a can of Hershey's syrup once.) I never had to duct tape my shoes or defend myself on the mean streets. Bummer.

I was raised in a financially comfortable home with every opportunity available to me. My mom surprised me with gifts and clothes laid out on my bed and bought my lie when she found cigarettes in my room. My family traveled. We went to the ballet and out for Japanese food. My dad moved the heavy mats at my dance recitals and grilled burgers on a Weber grill hung over the side of our pontoon boat.

So, there! It's out, Mom! Years of therapy won't undo the normalcy and stability of my childhood. I hope you and Dad are happy with yourselves.