So I haven’t done a proper Memorable Monday series since December 24 and I was going to skip it again today because I’m still feeling like crap and can barely keep my eyes open but suddenly I just changed my mind. I think I would rather tell you a funny story about me as a child rather than relay how Tiara attacked me in the pulmonary clinic on Friday and I had to scream for help. Or talk about the fact that Bailey is suddenly blind and walks into walls and is having a hard time going to the bathroom in yard because he can’t find his way around. I have no desire to focus on any of this horrible stuff so I am going to tell you a story which exemplifies me as a child.
Looking back, I never remember liking dolls, playing games or playing much of anything in particular. I loved to investigate, spy, cook and take care of my little sister. Soon after my sister was born, my parents bought the house across the street from our rental home. The house was disgusting! The previous owners had several dogs that were not house broken, and as a result the carpet was filled with urine and poop. The walls were covered in an assortment of hideous wallpapers and the bathrooms were repulsive. As you can imagine because the house was in such disrepair, my parents got a great deal. My Mother, 2 months after having my sister, took on the project of fixing this house mostly herself with some help from her parents. Wow, that reminds me of myself. My Dad was a young attorney and worked long hours but my Mom had a bundle of energy and tons of talent so she set off to clean and redecorate the house within 6 weeks. I had just turned 4 and was a mini adult in the making.
I was so responsible that my Mom used to take my sister across the street and lay her on a blanket for nap time while she painted and worked and would leave me at home to fend for myself. If I needed her I could go next door to my neighbor Mrs. Howard and she could walk me across the street or I could yell until my Mom heard me. We lived in a small community and the streets were not busy, so I could have crossed myself but that made my Mom nervous.
I don’t have tons of memories of my life before the age of 4 but for some reason I have gone back to this incident numerous times in my life. I think of it often, yet I don’t know why. Probably because I hate to get in trouble and I got caught red handed and I couldn’t stand the feeling of being in trouble. Still hate that emotion today.
Here it goes. I am sitting in my favorite yellow and white gingham dress with the puffy sleeves and full skirt watching my favorite show “I Love Lucy”. Every morning 2 episodes played in a row and my Mom let me watch them both and then I had to turn off the TV. Lucy was getting into some crazy trouble like always and after the show was over I decided I wanted to make some chocolate milk for a snack. I wasn’t tall enough to reach the cups or the nestle quik mix, but I decided I would just climb up on the kitchen counter and get the supplies myself. My Mom had told me repeatedly not to climb on the counter but I liked to do things for myself, and I couldn’t reach anything so I just did it even though she always got mad. Obviously not a great listener and a little stubborn. FYI, I have always been clumsy and she was always worried I was going to fall and “break my neck”. I have always been a good rule follower but only if I thought the rules were really appropriate. Guess that means I am not a good rule follower despite what I think of myself. We didn’t have a step ladder and it would take way too much time to drag a kitchen chair across the nook to the counter, so in my mind I didn’t have a choice. Always have been inpatient, until Tiara came along.
Unlike other normal people my Mom put out decorations on our kitchen counter. No toaster, no blender, or fruit bowl. We had vintage cookie jars and teapots lining the back splash instead. So I climbed up in my pretty dress to get the stuff down and I dropped the chocolate milk mix and it hit the counter and smashed into her favorite antique blue and white cookie jar and the lid broke into several pieces. OMG! I totally panicked and wasn’t sure what to do.
I then decided I was savvy enough to glue it back together and she may not even notice. This is where I really remember feeling stressed because she kept the glue on a shelf over the washing machine in the garage. In order to climb onto the washing machine I had to perch myself onto the steps leading into the garage and make a small leap onto the machine and catch myself. From there I had to stand on top of the machine on my tip toes to reach the glue. As I was reaching for the glue, I remember thinking “I really am going to break my neck this time. If my Mom can tell I glued the jar back together, I am dead! She will know that not only did I climb onto the kitchen counter but on top of the washing machine..”
Nevertheless I kept going. Once I got the glue, Elmer’s white glue, like that was ever really going to hold the porcelain back together, I went to work on gluing the pieces. Using Elmer’s showed I truly was a 4 year, but then again we didn’t have glue guns back then. It wasn’t holding and I was getting glue all over my favorite dress and I was starting to panic because I knew my Mom would be coming to check on my any minute. She usually checked on me at least once an hour, and time was running out. I finally realized I needed to put the top back on the jar and glue it while supporting it with other items around it until it dried. I finished it before she got home and cleaned everything up. It was far from dry and if you moved it the whole thing would fall apart and I knew it.
As soon as she walked in, she knew something was wrong. I am the worst liar on the planet and I probably wreaked of guilt. She went into the kitchen to make me lunch, while I was holding my breath from across the room. She didn’t notice right away, and I busied myself with holding my little sister. I always liked to carry her every where and feed her a bottle. After lunch, while cleaning the counter, my Mom moved the jar to clean the counter thoroughly and the lid fell apart right in front of her eyes. She then saw all the messy glue all over the porcelain and looked over at me with her evilest stare. My Mom was professional at giving the scariest looks you have ever seen. I broke down in tears and confessed to the whole mess. Of course I got most in trouble for climbing up on the washing machine to get the glue down. From then on she made me stay across the street with her while she cleaned until I could prove myself again.
Happy Monday and hope you enjoyed this silly story of me as a child, I actually feel better now. Once again the blog is my therapy.
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