Little Monsters

Baby Monsters

Let’s get one thing straight right from the beginning — the 1970s gave us Led Zeppelin, “Star Wars”, M*A*S*H, The Gulag Archipelago, & Farrah Fawcett, so it could not have been all bad! And this glorious and free-wheeling decade provides the inspiration for the never ending funk-a-delic party we like to call Little Monsters, who were born to a very confused mother and a passed out father at 1:00am (The Heir) and 1:07am (The Bonus Baby) on September 12th, 1970.

Due to her “advanced age” of 33, Mom’s doctors told her that she would not be able to have any more children beyond her three daughters. SURPRISE! She got pregnant anyway. My theory is that our people (i.e. Monsters) have been around for over 5,000 years and nothing can stop us. In 1970, before sonograms were used to spy on babies in the womb, the stethoscope was the traditional and only way to hear a baby’s heartbeat. The Little Monsters were positioned in such a way that the doctors only heard one heartbeat. SURPRISE! There were really two!

On the evening of September 11, 1970 Mom & Dad attended a party. Now it was pretty dark in there, and loud as hell, and all the voices and music from the party were muffled, so I can’t be absolutely positive, but I’m pretty sure that alcoholic beverages that require ice cubes were being consumed, I smelled smoke, and I could hear a great deal of plaid. Mom announced to our father and some other doctors in attendance, including her OB-GYN, the she was in labor. After a series of on the spot tests, a panel of medical professionals determined that she was “crazy” because she wasn’t due for another five weeks, case closed, and those that could still walk preceded to move forward with their next bourbon and ginger.

When they got home that night, Dad somehow managed to lock them out of the house and they had to break in — all while the contractions she wasn’t having were getting shorter and stronger. When they finally got to bed, Mom couldn’t sleep, you see, because she was still thinking that maybe, probably, certainly, the baby was on the way. She woke up my Dad, who, in his infinite wisdom, told her to wait until morning, or just wake him up when it was time and he would deliver the baby himself. Appalled, she told him he was a crackpot, to keep his hands away from her, and that she was driving herself to the hospital with or without him. He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed and my Mom drove them to the hospital.

Of course Mom was right. The baby was on the way — five weeks early. Bada bing, bada boom, Little Monster #1 is born. Game over. The doctors and nurses pack up and leave. Then a nurse comes back into the delivery room and notices an additional tiny foot. SURPRISE! Bonus Baby! She finds the doctor and the team quickly reassembles. Little Monster #2 is born. For years, we were told that upon finding out that he not only had a son, but TWO sons, my father fainted. The real story, of course, is that he was super ‘70s drunk and had passed out in the waiting room. Our parents fought over a boy’s name for months. She wanted “Philip” and he wanted “Lawrence.” They got both!

And that is how it all started, not with a whisper, but a bang.