The other day my son was mistaken for an anti-racist skinhead by a racist skinhead, who proceeded to spew vitriol, much to the bafflement of my son, who is neither.
I was all, "How can you be mistaken for a skinhead? You've got a mohawk!"
And he agitatedly informed me that these days, skinheads can have mohawks.
WHO KNEW!?!?!
So I started on this whole, "In my day, skinheads shaved their whole head, dammit, only punk rockers had mohawks! And we didn't order our gear on the interwebs, we made it ourselves. And there was none of this "mosh pit" nonsense! We skanked barefoot! In the snow! Uphill. Both ways!"
Then my Dwarf started going, "Skinheads? We didn't talk to racist skinheads. And we didn't let racist skinheads talk, either. That's the problem with you kids these days..."
And my son laughed his ass off and thanked us both for getting him out of his bad mood.
So, yeah, granny-cranky-pants moments are useful!
But on the other, more serious point - yes, it was extremely lucky that doctor was in the building that day, because the technique was brand spanking new in the west, and they hadn't even known my mum was having twins - they thought it was one baby with a heart murmur, when really it was two babies, one with WPW, one with a cord wrapped around his neck just waiting to tighten up when he tried to get out. Plus, she was only 6 days early! Oh, those were the days, when mothers did not know you weren't supposed to smoke when you were knocked up...
And then, in spite of HIM being the one in trouble, I was the one who had to spend the first week of life in an incubator, due to what was then considered a low birth weight of 4lb 11oz.
I totally blame my claustrophobia on that incubator... *rant rant ramble ramble*
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Hey you kids, get off my fucking lawn!
Date: 2009-03-06 11:26 pm (UTC)The other day my son was mistaken for an anti-racist skinhead by a racist skinhead, who proceeded to spew vitriol, much to the bafflement of my son, who is neither.
I was all, "How can you be mistaken for a skinhead? You've got a mohawk!"
And he agitatedly informed me that these days, skinheads can have mohawks.
WHO KNEW!?!?!
So I started on this whole, "In my day, skinheads shaved their whole head, dammit, only punk rockers had mohawks! And we didn't order our gear on the interwebs, we made it ourselves. And there was none of this "mosh pit" nonsense! We skanked barefoot! In the snow! Uphill. Both ways!"
Then my Dwarf started going, "Skinheads? We didn't talk to racist skinheads. And we didn't let racist skinheads talk, either. That's the problem with you kids these days..."
And my son laughed his ass off and thanked us both for getting him out of his bad mood.
So, yeah, granny-cranky-pants moments are useful!
But on the other, more serious point - yes, it was extremely lucky that doctor was in the building that day, because the technique was brand spanking new in the west, and they hadn't even known my mum was having twins - they thought it was one baby with a heart murmur, when really it was two babies, one with WPW, one with a cord wrapped around his neck just waiting to tighten up when he tried to get out. Plus, she was only 6 days early! Oh, those were the days, when mothers did not know you weren't supposed to smoke when you were knocked up...
And then, in spite of HIM being the one in trouble, I was the one who had to spend the first week of life in an incubator, due to what was then considered a low birth weight of 4lb 11oz.
I totally blame my claustrophobia on that incubator... *rant rant ramble ramble*