Sometimes, not a lot happens to Babu in a month’s time.  (Think about what a diary of mine would like like, if I ever wrote in one!)  January, 1939 is a busy one, however.  It was busy with small details that I could have easily over looked, like these two sentences somewhere midmonth:

Mother had some ex-rays taken tonight but the doctor couldn’t see anything wrong. He advised her to go to Boston.

There is a mystery about Babu’s mother being ill.  I read sporadically that she is ill, once they were even frightened that they would loose her, but Babu never explains what’s wrong and usually, I’m assuming, her mother is feeling fine.  Just another explanation I wonder if will be revealed.

She is also still butting heads with her mother frequently.

Came home enthused about the muff mom is making me of black velvet but right off smart we had words together and aren’t speaking.

It’s always the worst to fight with a parent when you need something from them.  Every child in every fight with a parent always feels righteously indignant and then the nose gets cut off despite the face, as it did here:

I shall probably go off half dressed tomorrow. Sewed buttons on my evening jacket and hope they last through tomorrow night.

It’s almost awkward reading about squabbles between her and either of her parents.  She has told me so many times how wonderful their relationship was, how they never argued, she was never punished with any slaps.  But then I read differently, from her own mouth, so to speak.  I don’t stay feeling awkward about it because I believe both versions are true.  What Babu remembers now is a tight bond with her parents and a house full of love.  As a young woman writing these pages, she is in those moments of coming into her own.  She’s in those moments where you fight but you don’t mean it, those times when those arguments help you to find out who you really are.  I think it’s difficult to be the age she is in 1939 and still be living with her parents, to not be settled down, to not even see that possibility yet.  In this month two of her friends and contemporaries have wedding showers, on the very same night.  Her parents want her to settled down, grow up, and I sense she wants to also.  She does not, however, want to settle.  It’s summed up here:

Lately I’m getting a bit fed up on boys. Mom told me tonight I should choose one and only go with him.

She does do one grown up thing this month.  She gets help to cure her first hang over:

Woke up this morning with my first hangover. Gave up my breakfast twice before I went to work. Our elevator boy brought me a can of tomato juice to clear my head and settle my stomach.

Oh, Babu!