September 30, 2008
I’m going to keep blogging. I’ve never loved anything so much. Hope you stick around and I hope you guys send more people here. Let me share: This blog has had over 1,000 visitors and on my birthday I had the most visitors ever. This posting, by the way, is the fiftieth.
Now, Miss Ty, I guess it’s time for our little blog gurl to grow up, huh? :D Thank you again. I’m so blessed.
Best, Robin
September 30, 2008
Let you in on a secret: I don’t like celebrations for me. Birthdays, at least mine, don’t mean much. The last party I had was when I was ten years old and it was a surprise party though I wasn’t surprised because I was a nosey child who knew how to add — put two and two together. When I turned 16, my grandmother made my favorite dinner for me: steak, mashed potatoes and spinach, and I was happy. On my 21st birthday I went out with girlfriends just to show off my identification and legal drinking age status; I drank so much that I spent the better part of the drive home hanging out of a moving car with my friend driving with one hand and hanging onto my hair with the other hand to keep me from falling out as I hurled on a tree lawn in Shaker Heights, Ohio, a really nice suburb. At thirty, I was too busy studying to worry about partying. And on my fortieth birthday I stayed in bed most of the day because I just wanted to rest.
Today I chilled. I relaxed and I honestly didn’t worry. Things worked out, life and people cooperated. But most of all I received a lot of love from a lot of people. (I’d also like to think I gave some love today too.)
One of the sweetest gifts I received today, and I received many, came from my friend Djuan who wrote me this note:
“I looked at your picture on twitter and got overwhelmed, I thought ‘look at that pretty little child who would do anything bad to that little girl.’ As a father of 4 little children I get all sensitive about the kids. I hope your Birthday is a blessed one and that if you have any hurts from the past that they will be healed in Jesus’ name.”
I cried when I read that note from Djuan, because it was touching and confirmed what I’d written earlier about loving that little girl so much now. I love her so much I want her to heal. I want me to heal.
Djuan called me this evening to check on me and we talked about our mothers and our childhoods. We decided that we’re going to be okay.
Thank you, Djuan and thank you everyone for loving me and making this day special. Thank God for this day and thank God for all of you. This day was so special…
Best, Robin
P.S. I will be continuing the blog for another fifty days. 
September 30, 2008
I’m sitting here with mild cramps and that stirring in my ovaries (yep, I can feel them) and I know my periods about to start probably today. It occured to me that I actually started on my eleventh birthday, which means it’s my period’s birthday too.
My grandmother hosted a little birthday party for me at her house. There was cake and ice cream and she made burgers for me and about five or six friends. We played kickball in the driveway. And I had on the loveliest smock dress with knee socks and mary janes.
It was my turn to get the ball and when I bent over one of the boys screamed like a girl and said, “Robin Caldwell (everyone called me by my full name) has blood all over her dress!” It scared the willies out of me and one of the girls said, “Robin Caldwell started her period. Run in the house, girl!” And I did.
I ran right into the house and straight to the bathroom, locking the door behind and then climbed into the bathtub, crying. I sat in the dry tub sobbing hysterically.
My grandmother and mother, who by the way worked at a sanitary napkin dispensing company, banged and banged on the door asking me what was wrong. I could hear the kids behind them describing this gory scene of blood everywhere and asking was I gonna die. Then I heard one of the girls say “Oh, she’s having a baby.” Why did she say that? Yes, I’d had the talk and knew about menstruation but chose to believe my peers and starting wailing, “I didn’t do nothing, I swear. I didn’t do anything. I don’t wanna have a baby.”
In the background, I could hear my grandmother telling my granddad to get the kids out of the house and to feed them. And I could also hear my mother and grandmother trying to stifle their laughs as they attempted to get me to open the door.
“You’re not having a baby, honey. You’re okay. Open the door.”
‘No!’
“Please?”
‘No, you’re going to whip me!’
My mother, the nut, bless her heart, had no patience with me whatsoever and said, “Open the door now! You’re not having a baby! Just open the door.”
I got out of the tub on the promise that they wouldn’t beat me.
When I opened the door I found two laughing women who quickly changed me out of those clothes, washed me and made me a homemade pad before sending my grandfather off to the drugstore for real pads, a belt to hold it in place, some aspirin and some gingerale. He grumbled and obliged, because he didn’t want to hear my grandmother’s mouth.
Gaga or my grandmother filled a hotwater bottle and placed it on my stomach though I wasn’t feeling any pain. I was only embarrassed and ticked that my birthday was spoiled by the appearance of what would become one of my best friends – my freakin’ period.
So, HAPPY 39th BIRTHDAY PERIOD!
Best, Robin
