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Family, Parenting

Birthday love

Happy birthday to my Mom, Ginger Salvatore!

I will not tell you her age, but rather show you these photos, which will surely get me in hot water.

I love this baby picture, even if the toy she’s sitting on looks more than a little dangerous. She is here in the front yard of her childhood home, where many years Iater I learned to make pancakes with my cousins, played dress-up in the attic, created otherworldly forts out of sheets, and tried in vain to avoid my uncle as he stole around the corner in full horror costume at Halloween.


In the picture below, Mom is about 6. Her hair was a beautiful honey-blond, judging by the lock that’s saved next to the picture in the photo album, and I see here she’s no longer wearing the beloved baby ring that had to be cut off her finger (it, too, is in the album).

Also, you should know she didn’t like the bow (there’s a story there — maybe she’ll weigh in with it if she’s still talking to me after seeing this post).


That serious expression is a standing feature of nearly all her photos; she HATES having her picture taken, and I guess she always did.

Looking at the pictures, you’d never guess it, but my mother is one of the funniest people I know.

She’s also beautiful, selfless, wonderfully artistic and creative, and has always worked tirelessly– a trait I understand more now that I’m a mother, too, and try (unsuccessfully) to maintain the traditions she did.

Thanks to her, I don’t take myself too seriously. But try as I might to emulate her, I know I’ll never be as terrific a mom as she was to me.

Happy birthday, Mom! Wishing you lots of love and laughs this year and always.

About Terri S. Vanech

Wife, mother, communications specialist, Jazzercise instructor and recently reunited adoptee. I'm living out loud -- and trying to make it all work -- in midlife. Having a sense of humor sure helps.


3 thoughts on “Birthday love

  1. Toy? It was an instrument of torture probably designed by my mother! I’ve often heard it said that as we age we become children again. Well, the way my hair is thinning I will soon look like the first photo. (Sigh…) And you think uncle Richard gave YOU grief? He never forced you to stick a hairpin in the wall socket to “see what happens “. I saw. A scar the length of my index finger. But aging has its plusses. It’s now buried under wrinkles and age spots!

    Yes…..the bow. My grandmother’s neighbor worked at Kensico Cemetery and used to bring her home the bows from the discarded flower arrangements. She painstakingly peeled off the R.I.P. and laundered them by hand, starched and ironed them. Then I had to wear them. YOU WOULDN’T SMILE EITHER!!!

    Posted by mommy dearest | October 10, 2013, 10:04 am

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