Now, we all know that my mother is crazy overprotective. So explain to me how I never wore a seat belt until I starting driving in high school. Growing up I was the only child so my mother not only let me sit in the front seat where it is now said that every kid will surely die but she never required me to wear a seat belt. Or sit properly in the seat matter of fact.
I have memories of mom driving me to school while I sat on my feet so I could reach out the window and try to touch signs and bushes we drove past. As an adult this sounds horrifying to me! I would never let my kid lean half out a car window, especially without a seat belt. Was this just the way it was in the '80's or is my mother insane?
Now, I was a cute kid and in elementary school I was tall and skinny so I looked older than I really was. I always fooled those poorly paid teenagers at Six Flags that had to guess our ages and weights to prevent us from winning a giant asbestos filled stuffed animal. Well, I was always trying to look out the car window to watch the teenagers walking home from school and to see the people in all the cars we drove past. Of course still being in elementary school and my mom driving a battle tank of a car, I couldn't quite see over the window sill. That is when I started sitting on my feet so that I was taller. Little did I know at the time but this also made me appear older. I realized this when I started noticing the teenage boys we drove past looking at me and waving. Did they think I was a teenager too? This was exciting so I started waving at everyone I saw. Most people waved back. I started doing this on a regular basis and really enjoyed my older persona in the car. Until it backfired.
I had been sitting on my feet and waving at people for a long time when finally someone didn't just wave back. Mom and I were riding on the highway when a pickup truck went by with some guys in the flat bed. I waved as usual and one of the guys stood up, turned around, and pulled down his pants. I was mooned at 60 miles per hour on the highway. What grown man shows his booty to a child? My mother was horrified and exited the highway immediately.
She still let me sit on my feet and wave at people but from then on I was a lot more skeptical about who I waved at. Eventually, years later I started driving myself. One day mom and I were pulled over while I was driving to school. The cop was about to give us a ticket for not wearing seat belts when he was called away to an emergency. That ticket was all the scare that either of us needed to start wearing our seat belts. I can't imagine not wearing one now and believe me, if I ever have kids, they will be strapped tight into a car seat with no window views until they are married.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Working a Wedding
My very first job was not the typical teenage babysitting gig. When I was in middle school my aunt called asking if I wanted a job helping her cater weddings. How awesome would that be? Beautiful wedding, great food, party, fun right? Not so much.
It started off when my aunt accidentally locked the keys into the catering van, along with most of the food. We were already running late and I could tell that my aunt was annoyed that I didn't just magically know how to cater a wedding. She was running around in circles while I stood there waiting for instructions and thoroughly examining the see-through factor of the white shirt I had been required to wear. Who's smart idea is it for caterers to wear white? That is just asking for a stain.
My aunt managed to find a hobo outside the reception hall that jimmied the catering van open for us. We proceeded to start setting up the food. That is when the guests started meandering through the door. They were early and the bride and groom were no where to be found. They were, of course, having their photos done. On a side note, I hate when couples make the guests stand around and wait while they spend hours getting photos taken. I took mine before the ceremony to spare my guests the misery. Anywho, these guests were hungry and didn't want to wait. My aunt politely explained that they were early, we weren't set up yet, and the buffet line wasn't suppose to start until the bride and groom arrived. They turned into food zombies! All the guests started hovering around the buffet line yelling that they shouldn't have to wait for the bride and groom. While my aunt tried to hold them back, I scrambled to start getting the rest of the food out. The guest finally realized that they were never going to get any food at all if they kept yelling at my aunt instead of letting her set up. Now, she was really bustling. She had to get the food set up and ready for the second the bride and groom arrived to avoid another attack.
She started setting up the little warming tray things with the Stearno burner under them. She took charge since I should clearly not be allowed around open flame. In her panic she tossed down the stack of napkins at the front of the line...right next to the flame. I watched in horror as the napkins went up in flames and my aunt obliviously went on setting up the rest of the trays. I casually run-walked over and scream-whispered that she started a fire. Luckily the fire was small and she was able to put it out with the wet rag she was carrying around for some reason. And she thought I was the irresponsible one with fire. Needless to say she let me handle the rest of the warming trays while she finished the rest of the food.
We finished just in time and the rest of the reception was beautiful. People got their food, after the bride and groom of course. I enjoyed spying on the wedding and watching the new couple greet their guests. They had a slide show on a big screen of photos of them growing up and then meeting and dating. I was in the middle of watching the show when I was poked in the ribs by my aunt who seemed completely puzzled as to why I wasn't working. Weren't we done yet? No, we now had to undo everything and pack up and get out quick so they could set up the dance floor. We hurriedly packed up all the leftovers and scooted before they regretted paying us so much. I ended up getting home sometime after midnight with a bag of leftover wedding food, a not-so-white-anymore shirt, and the realization that I never wanted to work in the food industry again.
It started off when my aunt accidentally locked the keys into the catering van, along with most of the food. We were already running late and I could tell that my aunt was annoyed that I didn't just magically know how to cater a wedding. She was running around in circles while I stood there waiting for instructions and thoroughly examining the see-through factor of the white shirt I had been required to wear. Who's smart idea is it for caterers to wear white? That is just asking for a stain.
My aunt managed to find a hobo outside the reception hall that jimmied the catering van open for us. We proceeded to start setting up the food. That is when the guests started meandering through the door. They were early and the bride and groom were no where to be found. They were, of course, having their photos done. On a side note, I hate when couples make the guests stand around and wait while they spend hours getting photos taken. I took mine before the ceremony to spare my guests the misery. Anywho, these guests were hungry and didn't want to wait. My aunt politely explained that they were early, we weren't set up yet, and the buffet line wasn't suppose to start until the bride and groom arrived. They turned into food zombies! All the guests started hovering around the buffet line yelling that they shouldn't have to wait for the bride and groom. While my aunt tried to hold them back, I scrambled to start getting the rest of the food out. The guest finally realized that they were never going to get any food at all if they kept yelling at my aunt instead of letting her set up. Now, she was really bustling. She had to get the food set up and ready for the second the bride and groom arrived to avoid another attack.
She started setting up the little warming tray things with the Stearno burner under them. She took charge since I should clearly not be allowed around open flame. In her panic she tossed down the stack of napkins at the front of the line...right next to the flame. I watched in horror as the napkins went up in flames and my aunt obliviously went on setting up the rest of the trays. I casually run-walked over and scream-whispered that she started a fire. Luckily the fire was small and she was able to put it out with the wet rag she was carrying around for some reason. And she thought I was the irresponsible one with fire. Needless to say she let me handle the rest of the warming trays while she finished the rest of the food.
We finished just in time and the rest of the reception was beautiful. People got their food, after the bride and groom of course. I enjoyed spying on the wedding and watching the new couple greet their guests. They had a slide show on a big screen of photos of them growing up and then meeting and dating. I was in the middle of watching the show when I was poked in the ribs by my aunt who seemed completely puzzled as to why I wasn't working. Weren't we done yet? No, we now had to undo everything and pack up and get out quick so they could set up the dance floor. We hurriedly packed up all the leftovers and scooted before they regretted paying us so much. I ended up getting home sometime after midnight with a bag of leftover wedding food, a not-so-white-anymore shirt, and the realization that I never wanted to work in the food industry again.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Chillin at the Holiday Inn, Literally
After the whole clown incident I was determined to never have a typical birthday party again. My mom agreed and decided that I indeed deserved to be spoiled. Since my birthday is in November I never got to have a pool party. I mean, who wants to swim in the snow. It never failed to snow on my birthday.
How did my mom solve this problem you ask? Well, she decided to have my birthday party at a hotel, with an indoor pool of course. And you can't use the pool without renting a room. And what birthday girl wants to stay in a hotel room alone with her mother? So, my mom invited all of my friends. It was a sleepover party, very popular in the 6th grade, only at a hotel instead of our house. This was the perfect idea. We didn't have to clean the house, didn't really have to clean up much after the party, and didn't have to worry about sleeping bags all over the living room floor.
This was the best birthday party ever! All of my friends came to the party. We swam all night, watched movies (mom rented a fancy VCR from blockbuster to hook up to the hotel TV), opened presents, and started a slam book. Yes, a slam book. I think there are many definitions for a slam book but mine consisted of a notebook with pretty pink paper and lots of stickers. Each page had a question on it like "what is your favorite TV show?". Each girl chose a different sticker for her entries and wrote in her answer on each page next to her sticker. This was the coolest thing ever apparently. I actually, still have this book to this day. Favorite TV show? Saved by the Bell of course. Band? New Kids on the Block. I think I secretly went back years later and changed some of my answers to less embarrassing ones.
The party was a huge success with my friends too. I was subtly upgraded to a slightly less loser-like kid in class. We ate junk food all night, and my mom got us donuts in the morning for breakfast. My party was so successful in fact that we decided to have a hotel party every year for my birthday. Every year we added something new. A nicer hotel, a bigger pool, an arcade, more food, longer weekends, and cute boys of course. Of course, there were some injuries and bad moments in all those years but that is for another day. My last hotel party was for my 18th birthday. I decided that a huge sleepover party was not going to be so cool in college so I decided to forgo the hotel for my 19th birthday. I still think about those parties though. They were always the best weekend of the year.
Anyone up for swimming this November?
How did my mom solve this problem you ask? Well, she decided to have my birthday party at a hotel, with an indoor pool of course. And you can't use the pool without renting a room. And what birthday girl wants to stay in a hotel room alone with her mother? So, my mom invited all of my friends. It was a sleepover party, very popular in the 6th grade, only at a hotel instead of our house. This was the perfect idea. We didn't have to clean the house, didn't really have to clean up much after the party, and didn't have to worry about sleeping bags all over the living room floor.
This was the best birthday party ever! All of my friends came to the party. We swam all night, watched movies (mom rented a fancy VCR from blockbuster to hook up to the hotel TV), opened presents, and started a slam book. Yes, a slam book. I think there are many definitions for a slam book but mine consisted of a notebook with pretty pink paper and lots of stickers. Each page had a question on it like "what is your favorite TV show?". Each girl chose a different sticker for her entries and wrote in her answer on each page next to her sticker. This was the coolest thing ever apparently. I actually, still have this book to this day. Favorite TV show? Saved by the Bell of course. Band? New Kids on the Block. I think I secretly went back years later and changed some of my answers to less embarrassing ones.
The party was a huge success with my friends too. I was subtly upgraded to a slightly less loser-like kid in class. We ate junk food all night, and my mom got us donuts in the morning for breakfast. My party was so successful in fact that we decided to have a hotel party every year for my birthday. Every year we added something new. A nicer hotel, a bigger pool, an arcade, more food, longer weekends, and cute boys of course. Of course, there were some injuries and bad moments in all those years but that is for another day. My last hotel party was for my 18th birthday. I decided that a huge sleepover party was not going to be so cool in college so I decided to forgo the hotel for my 19th birthday. I still think about those parties though. They were always the best weekend of the year.
Anyone up for swimming this November?
Friday, July 23, 2010
Ms. Goody Goody Tells a Lie
I am and have always been a goody goody. I did everything my mom asked, I got good grades, I never misbehaved, and didn't really lie. That is until 5th grade.
5th grade was a hard year for me, I had been moved into honors math which was a nightmare for me. I didn't really think I belonged there and my grades reflected as such. I was most definitely the dumbest kid in honors math. Being that it was such a struggle, I spent most of my nights working on the homework and studying for math tests. This, of course, caused my other grades to go down. I was still doing well in my other classes but I was definitely not giving them the attention they needed.
I always looked forward to seeing my test grades. After all, they were almost always A's so why wouldn't I be excited. I enjoyed knowing that I had done well. I was never pressured to get good grades but my mother was always pleased when I did. Well, one day I was sitting in science class gleefully awaiting the return of a test we had taken when it happened. The teacher placed the test in front of me and I saw something I had never seen. It was a C! I had never gotten a C. I wasn't expecting a C. I knew I hadn't studied much but I never studied much for tests. I was horrified and immediately hid my test so no one else would see it. Of course it got worse. I was reminded by the teacher that any test score of C or lower needed to be signed by a parent and returned the next day. What? I had never had to have a test signed before. What was my mother going to say? She never commented on my grades but they had never been bad before. I know a C is not the end of the world but to me in the 5th grade, it was.
I got home from school to find my mother in bed with a washcloth over her forehead. I knew what that meant. She had a migraine. Again. My mother seemed to always have a migraine when I was a kid. And I knew better than to talk to her when she had a migraine. It was bad enough having to talk to her about my C but now she didn't feel good on top of it. I decided that maybe my teacher would forget to collect the test. I mean, she had never collected a signed one back from me before so she would never remember right?
The next day in class I was nervous, and sweaty and couldn't focus on anything. When we got to science the teacher inevitably asked everyone to get out their tests from the previous day. I scrambled to get mine out, and in a panic, decided to forge my mother's signature. My mother's signature is not just one of those scribbles that doesn't look like a name. Of course, hers is legible, bubbly and a confusing mix of print and cursive. I've never seen anything like it in my day. And, being a 5th grader, I was not an expert forger of signatures. I did my best to recreate my mom's name and when the teacher came by, I turned in my monstrosity.
I thought I was clear and free. We went on with class and I started to relax. It was at the end of class that the teacher approached me and asked if I had signed my mom's name on my test? Turning bright red immediately I couldn't try to lie. I admitted to signing it myself but said that I had told my mom about it but had to sign it for her because she was in bed sick and could not sign it herself. That was only a slight lie right? An exaggeration if you will. Well, my teacher didn't buy it. She told me to tell my mother to be expecting a call from her to verify my story. Now what was I supposed to do?
I left school in a panic and once I got home I immediately started crying and blurted everything out to my mom. And do you know what she did? She laughed at me! She thought it was hilarious that I had made up such a story. When the teacher called, she verified my story (to the teacher's shock I'm sure) and we went to get ice cream. Clearly, lying is awesome. I got all upset for no reason. My mom was not upset about the C and said she knew I would do better next time. She told me not to lie next time but I secretly think she really enjoyed it.
So, what lesson did I learn. Lying makes my mom happy. Good to know. I got much better at "exaggerating" as the years went on and never got caught by a teacher again. But to this day I still can not successfully forge my mother's name.
5th grade was a hard year for me, I had been moved into honors math which was a nightmare for me. I didn't really think I belonged there and my grades reflected as such. I was most definitely the dumbest kid in honors math. Being that it was such a struggle, I spent most of my nights working on the homework and studying for math tests. This, of course, caused my other grades to go down. I was still doing well in my other classes but I was definitely not giving them the attention they needed.
I always looked forward to seeing my test grades. After all, they were almost always A's so why wouldn't I be excited. I enjoyed knowing that I had done well. I was never pressured to get good grades but my mother was always pleased when I did. Well, one day I was sitting in science class gleefully awaiting the return of a test we had taken when it happened. The teacher placed the test in front of me and I saw something I had never seen. It was a C! I had never gotten a C. I wasn't expecting a C. I knew I hadn't studied much but I never studied much for tests. I was horrified and immediately hid my test so no one else would see it. Of course it got worse. I was reminded by the teacher that any test score of C or lower needed to be signed by a parent and returned the next day. What? I had never had to have a test signed before. What was my mother going to say? She never commented on my grades but they had never been bad before. I know a C is not the end of the world but to me in the 5th grade, it was.
I got home from school to find my mother in bed with a washcloth over her forehead. I knew what that meant. She had a migraine. Again. My mother seemed to always have a migraine when I was a kid. And I knew better than to talk to her when she had a migraine. It was bad enough having to talk to her about my C but now she didn't feel good on top of it. I decided that maybe my teacher would forget to collect the test. I mean, she had never collected a signed one back from me before so she would never remember right?
The next day in class I was nervous, and sweaty and couldn't focus on anything. When we got to science the teacher inevitably asked everyone to get out their tests from the previous day. I scrambled to get mine out, and in a panic, decided to forge my mother's signature. My mother's signature is not just one of those scribbles that doesn't look like a name. Of course, hers is legible, bubbly and a confusing mix of print and cursive. I've never seen anything like it in my day. And, being a 5th grader, I was not an expert forger of signatures. I did my best to recreate my mom's name and when the teacher came by, I turned in my monstrosity.
I thought I was clear and free. We went on with class and I started to relax. It was at the end of class that the teacher approached me and asked if I had signed my mom's name on my test? Turning bright red immediately I couldn't try to lie. I admitted to signing it myself but said that I had told my mom about it but had to sign it for her because she was in bed sick and could not sign it herself. That was only a slight lie right? An exaggeration if you will. Well, my teacher didn't buy it. She told me to tell my mother to be expecting a call from her to verify my story. Now what was I supposed to do?
I left school in a panic and once I got home I immediately started crying and blurted everything out to my mom. And do you know what she did? She laughed at me! She thought it was hilarious that I had made up such a story. When the teacher called, she verified my story (to the teacher's shock I'm sure) and we went to get ice cream. Clearly, lying is awesome. I got all upset for no reason. My mom was not upset about the C and said she knew I would do better next time. She told me not to lie next time but I secretly think she really enjoyed it.
So, what lesson did I learn. Lying makes my mom happy. Good to know. I got much better at "exaggerating" as the years went on and never got caught by a teacher again. But to this day I still can not successfully forge my mother's name.
Friday, July 16, 2010
B's Birthday Bonanza
A few weeks after 5th grade ended my friend B moved out to Chesterfield with her family. Being one of my only friends, I was pretty upset to see her go. B's parents had planned a birthday party for her in her new house and I was invited. I was terrified, it was a sleepover; I had never really been to a sleepover party before. Being at someone elses house meant that my mother wouldn't be able to watch over my every move; therefore I had never really been to a sleepover.
The day of the sleepover arrived and after about twenty minutes of driving winding roads through a subdivision we arrived at B's new house, or mansion as I would prefer to describe it. The house was enormous. Of course, for a house settled twenty minutes into a subdivision it had better have been amazing. I mean, come on. Who wants to drive more than twenty minutes just to grab a Slurpee? Anyway, I had made it to the party and was starting to get excited. Mom finally left after interrogating B's parents about what we would be doing and who would be watching us every second of the evening.
The party started out great. We watched some movies, including Labyrinth, which I had never seen before and still enjoy to this day (I love you David Bowie). We opened presents and then the other girls decided it would be a good idea to play truth or dare. I HATE truth or dare. I felt like I had too many secrets to choose the truth option. Most importantly being who I had a crush on. I couldn't share that privileged information with just anyone. Next thing you know it would be all over the playground and I would be standing there in front of everyone red faced and pretending I didn't like the bad boy in class. With that image running through my mind, I chose dare. Thankfully my dare did not involve anything embarrassing, just disgusting. B and some other girl I didn't know or trust concocted this drink out of random nasty condiments and juices they found in the fridge. Now, I'm a picky eater so not only was I eating foods I never ever ate, I was eating them all mixed together in a revolting vomit colored smoothie. I managed to down about two swigs before I gagged and was relieved from drinking the rest for fear of watching me vomit all over B's new kitchen. Thankfully truth or dare was over and we went back to watching movies.
Somewhere around eleven that night I started feeling sick. I was just sure it was the vomit smoothie I had eaten. I had stomach cramps and felt totally nauseous. Without my dear mommy there to take care of me and nurse me back to health I stayed mum and didn't tell anyone about my pain and suffering. I was starting to notice the other girls start to fall asleep and was relieved that the sleep part of the sleepover was starting. Little did I know, the first girls to fall asleep were in for a treat. I watched while B and the other girls still awake started sorting through the sleeping girls' bags and freezing their bras and putting their hands in water glasses. I was amused but also terrified at the same time. What would they do to me if I fell asleep? Clearly, I had to be the last one asleep to avoid being messed with. I waited patiently, watching the other girls start to dose off. I thought I was in the clear when suddenly smoothie girl looked over and asked me if I was still awake too? Damn, she was still awake. I mumbled a response hoping she would turn over and fall asleep. She didn't. She sat up with me and talked at me for what seemed like hours. I actually saw the sun start to rise while we were sitting there! Giving up all hope, I realized that I was not going to be getting any sleep and my stomach ache was not going to go away. As the sun made it's way into full view, the other girls started waking up. Immediately when B woke up she ran and grabbed her gerbil to help her wake up her friends. Ever wake up to a gerbil crawling on your face? Not me. Thank goodness I hadn't fallen asleep.
After a quick breakfast moms starting arriving to pick up the girls. Thankfully my mom was one of the first. At this point I was pretty much asleep with my eyes open and I was pretty sure I was gonna puke. I fell asleep during the car ride and once I got home discovered what was really happening. Hello puberty, I wasn't sick from the disgusto drink after all. I had started my period for the first time during the party. After the puberty speech from my mother, I crawled into bed for the rest of the day and slept off the worst sleepover of my life. I didn't really keep in touch with B after that since we didn't go to school together anymore but I will never forget her 10th birthday.
The day of the sleepover arrived and after about twenty minutes of driving winding roads through a subdivision we arrived at B's new house, or mansion as I would prefer to describe it. The house was enormous. Of course, for a house settled twenty minutes into a subdivision it had better have been amazing. I mean, come on. Who wants to drive more than twenty minutes just to grab a Slurpee? Anyway, I had made it to the party and was starting to get excited. Mom finally left after interrogating B's parents about what we would be doing and who would be watching us every second of the evening.
The party started out great. We watched some movies, including Labyrinth, which I had never seen before and still enjoy to this day (I love you David Bowie). We opened presents and then the other girls decided it would be a good idea to play truth or dare. I HATE truth or dare. I felt like I had too many secrets to choose the truth option. Most importantly being who I had a crush on. I couldn't share that privileged information with just anyone. Next thing you know it would be all over the playground and I would be standing there in front of everyone red faced and pretending I didn't like the bad boy in class. With that image running through my mind, I chose dare. Thankfully my dare did not involve anything embarrassing, just disgusting. B and some other girl I didn't know or trust concocted this drink out of random nasty condiments and juices they found in the fridge. Now, I'm a picky eater so not only was I eating foods I never ever ate, I was eating them all mixed together in a revolting vomit colored smoothie. I managed to down about two swigs before I gagged and was relieved from drinking the rest for fear of watching me vomit all over B's new kitchen. Thankfully truth or dare was over and we went back to watching movies.
Somewhere around eleven that night I started feeling sick. I was just sure it was the vomit smoothie I had eaten. I had stomach cramps and felt totally nauseous. Without my dear mommy there to take care of me and nurse me back to health I stayed mum and didn't tell anyone about my pain and suffering. I was starting to notice the other girls start to fall asleep and was relieved that the sleep part of the sleepover was starting. Little did I know, the first girls to fall asleep were in for a treat. I watched while B and the other girls still awake started sorting through the sleeping girls' bags and freezing their bras and putting their hands in water glasses. I was amused but also terrified at the same time. What would they do to me if I fell asleep? Clearly, I had to be the last one asleep to avoid being messed with. I waited patiently, watching the other girls start to dose off. I thought I was in the clear when suddenly smoothie girl looked over and asked me if I was still awake too? Damn, she was still awake. I mumbled a response hoping she would turn over and fall asleep. She didn't. She sat up with me and talked at me for what seemed like hours. I actually saw the sun start to rise while we were sitting there! Giving up all hope, I realized that I was not going to be getting any sleep and my stomach ache was not going to go away. As the sun made it's way into full view, the other girls started waking up. Immediately when B woke up she ran and grabbed her gerbil to help her wake up her friends. Ever wake up to a gerbil crawling on your face? Not me. Thank goodness I hadn't fallen asleep.
After a quick breakfast moms starting arriving to pick up the girls. Thankfully my mom was one of the first. At this point I was pretty much asleep with my eyes open and I was pretty sure I was gonna puke. I fell asleep during the car ride and once I got home discovered what was really happening. Hello puberty, I wasn't sick from the disgusto drink after all. I had started my period for the first time during the party. After the puberty speech from my mother, I crawled into bed for the rest of the day and slept off the worst sleepover of my life. I didn't really keep in touch with B after that since we didn't go to school together anymore but I will never forget her 10th birthday.
Friday, July 9, 2010
That's Life Kid
Kindergarten was really my best year. I wasn't the most popular kid but I had a group of friends, I was tall and skinny for my age, and apparently my friend O and I were pretty cute. I know this because every day at recess this group of boys would chase us around trying to catch us. We would run all over the playground, hide, and climb over everything to get away from them. Now, I am not really sure what was supposed to happen when they caught us. Were they supposed to kiss us or something? Being a very spry kindergartner I was never caught. Either that or the boys didn't know what to do either and purposely never caught us. Regardless of the purpose, I had some really good cardio back then. Maybe if they hadn't transferred me to another school I wouldn't be quite as out of shape today.
All was well and good until the day the boys got a little daring. O and I were playing on some sort of jungle gym thing when the boys decided to hang out under it and try to look up under our skirts! O and I were both wearing dresses that day which was not unusual being the adorable stylish kindergartners we were. We were used to climbing around the jungle gym in dresses. We were not use to boys watching us from below. We were horrified, O more than myself. She was just wearing panties under her dress. I, on the other hand, had a pair of shorts on under my dress. Why you ask? Well, of course my mother had predicted this very occurrence and never let me wear a dress to school without shorts underneath. She was just sure I was going to flash my goods to the unknowing youth in the kindergarten classroom. Needless to say, I was still horrified by the boys' behavior and O and I immediately disembarked from our jungle gym adventure. The boys continued to follow us as usual but they weren't just chasing us, they were still trying to see up our dresses. After about five minutes of this we decided it was time to involve the playground monitor. Now, I can't remember if the playground monitor was a parent, teacher or random person in charge of us but I didn't know this person. I tugged on the monitor's sleeve and she bent down to see why I was bugging her. I explained that the boys were trying to look up our skirts and that they wouldn't stop. I was expecting her to talk to the boys and get them in trouble. Instead, she looked down at me and said "That's life kid, now run along and play". I was shocked and tried to protest but she had already walked away. O and I were forced to sit out the rest of recess for fear of O being exposed. She vowed to always wear shorts like me and I guess that's the lesson we learned. We stopped wearing dresses for a while and when we did again, the boys didn't try to look up our skirts. But, I will always remember that playground monitor. I still can't decide if that was the best monitor ever for making us figure our our own situation or the worst one for ignoring the inappropriateness of the situation. Either way, I no longer wear shorts under my dresses so if I flash my goods I guess that's life right?
All was well and good until the day the boys got a little daring. O and I were playing on some sort of jungle gym thing when the boys decided to hang out under it and try to look up under our skirts! O and I were both wearing dresses that day which was not unusual being the adorable stylish kindergartners we were. We were used to climbing around the jungle gym in dresses. We were not use to boys watching us from below. We were horrified, O more than myself. She was just wearing panties under her dress. I, on the other hand, had a pair of shorts on under my dress. Why you ask? Well, of course my mother had predicted this very occurrence and never let me wear a dress to school without shorts underneath. She was just sure I was going to flash my goods to the unknowing youth in the kindergarten classroom. Needless to say, I was still horrified by the boys' behavior and O and I immediately disembarked from our jungle gym adventure. The boys continued to follow us as usual but they weren't just chasing us, they were still trying to see up our dresses. After about five minutes of this we decided it was time to involve the playground monitor. Now, I can't remember if the playground monitor was a parent, teacher or random person in charge of us but I didn't know this person. I tugged on the monitor's sleeve and she bent down to see why I was bugging her. I explained that the boys were trying to look up our skirts and that they wouldn't stop. I was expecting her to talk to the boys and get them in trouble. Instead, she looked down at me and said "That's life kid, now run along and play". I was shocked and tried to protest but she had already walked away. O and I were forced to sit out the rest of recess for fear of O being exposed. She vowed to always wear shorts like me and I guess that's the lesson we learned. We stopped wearing dresses for a while and when we did again, the boys didn't try to look up our skirts. But, I will always remember that playground monitor. I still can't decide if that was the best monitor ever for making us figure our our own situation or the worst one for ignoring the inappropriateness of the situation. Either way, I no longer wear shorts under my dresses so if I flash my goods I guess that's life right?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Gymnastic Head Case
Sometime after taking my swimming lessons, or lack thereof, my mother decided that I needed to be more athletic. She decided to sign me up for gymnastics. At the YMCA of course. I'm pretty sure my gymnastics coach was also the same lady that was my swim coach but that's neither here nor there. Since I had never taken gymnastics my mother put me in the beginner class....with five year olds. I was in 3rd or 4th grade at this point so I was AGAIN the oldest kid in class.
After fumbling through a wardrobe debacle (my mom insisted my tights should go over my leotard and I insisted they were supposed to be under the leotard) I breezed through my first class. I somersaulted, I walked the balance beam that was only four inches off the ground, and I even did a cartwheel. Being the oldest, I was clearly the brightest kid in class. I was immediately noticed for my balance beam abilities and felt proud to be singled out. I even learned how to do a cartwheel on the beam which was unheard of in "Beginners" gymnastics. I was on top....until it all went down hill.
I am not sure what happened but one day I got a horrible headache after doing a somersault and then the next time I got one after going upside down on the uneven bars. My mom noticed the pattern and immediately told my teacher that I shouldn't be allowed to do anything that involved going upside down because it clearly was giving me headaches and killing me. My teacher obliged and I had to sit out for most of the class because the whole point of gymnastics is to be able to go upside down and do cool tricks right?
Now, trust me this is related; I don't have my ears pierced. I had a horrible fear of needles as a child and refused to pierce my ears. Because of this I wore stick on earrings. You know, those little stickers that kids used to stick to their ears in the 80's. Well, I always lost my earrings while I was at gymnastics. Since, my mother insisted they were "re-wearable" I had to keep them and wear them again for several days for fear of running out of bright pink glitter circles. If I kept losing my sticker-rings at gymnastics then I would run out and my ears would have to go naked. Since I had nothing better to do in gymnastics class while I was watching everyone go upside down I devised a plan to help keep my earrings and protect my ears from the shame of going undecorated.
Before my next gymnastics class I got out the Elmer's Glue and thought it would be a great idea to glue the stickers to my earlobes. I mean, I couldn't lose them if they were glued on right? How very right I was. When I got home that night I couldn't get the stickers off. My mother refused to help me as a punishment for gluing random objects to my body. I ended up having to rip them off like a band-aid and my earlobes were red and swollen the next day at school. I ended up having to throw the glue covered earrings away after all and my ears went naked for several days. My whole plan had crumbled.
After that shenanigan my mother decided to take me out of gymnastics class. After all, I couldn't really participate anymore since I wasn't allowed to and my mother had, again, run out of funding. So, now not only could I not swim, I also couldn't do gymnastics. I wouldn't hit the good 'ol Y again until years later when my mother insisted we try an aerobics class together...
After fumbling through a wardrobe debacle (my mom insisted my tights should go over my leotard and I insisted they were supposed to be under the leotard) I breezed through my first class. I somersaulted, I walked the balance beam that was only four inches off the ground, and I even did a cartwheel. Being the oldest, I was clearly the brightest kid in class. I was immediately noticed for my balance beam abilities and felt proud to be singled out. I even learned how to do a cartwheel on the beam which was unheard of in "Beginners" gymnastics. I was on top....until it all went down hill.
I am not sure what happened but one day I got a horrible headache after doing a somersault and then the next time I got one after going upside down on the uneven bars. My mom noticed the pattern and immediately told my teacher that I shouldn't be allowed to do anything that involved going upside down because it clearly was giving me headaches and killing me. My teacher obliged and I had to sit out for most of the class because the whole point of gymnastics is to be able to go upside down and do cool tricks right?
Now, trust me this is related; I don't have my ears pierced. I had a horrible fear of needles as a child and refused to pierce my ears. Because of this I wore stick on earrings. You know, those little stickers that kids used to stick to their ears in the 80's. Well, I always lost my earrings while I was at gymnastics. Since, my mother insisted they were "re-wearable" I had to keep them and wear them again for several days for fear of running out of bright pink glitter circles. If I kept losing my sticker-rings at gymnastics then I would run out and my ears would have to go naked. Since I had nothing better to do in gymnastics class while I was watching everyone go upside down I devised a plan to help keep my earrings and protect my ears from the shame of going undecorated.
Before my next gymnastics class I got out the Elmer's Glue and thought it would be a great idea to glue the stickers to my earlobes. I mean, I couldn't lose them if they were glued on right? How very right I was. When I got home that night I couldn't get the stickers off. My mother refused to help me as a punishment for gluing random objects to my body. I ended up having to rip them off like a band-aid and my earlobes were red and swollen the next day at school. I ended up having to throw the glue covered earrings away after all and my ears went naked for several days. My whole plan had crumbled.
After that shenanigan my mother decided to take me out of gymnastics class. After all, I couldn't really participate anymore since I wasn't allowed to and my mother had, again, run out of funding. So, now not only could I not swim, I also couldn't do gymnastics. I wouldn't hit the good 'ol Y again until years later when my mother insisted we try an aerobics class together...
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