Archive for the ‘nostalgia’ Tag
August 27 2009
This is just a working theory, but I’ve noticed that there’s a direct correlation between the obnoxious value of a toy gifted to your child and the amount of obnoxiousness you’ve bestowed upon the giver over the years. It’s like revenge disguised as love, wrapped in festive paper with curly bows.
For instance, my brother gave Abby a tea set for her birthday. Now this seems harmless and sweet enough at first glance. Until you notice the button that plays music, complete with quaint British accent. Which she likes to push. Over and over and over. And over, ad infinitum. Until it seeps into my brain and I wake up screaming about tea cups and plastic danishes.
I always thought I was a fairly decent sister. Apparently, he would disagree. We are 7 years apart with not much in common, so our time together was usually rather limited. However, I would try to tag along whenever I could. And I eavesdropped on more than a handful of telephone conversations. I even may have hit him as hard as I could in an area where guys prefer not to be hit, more than once, just because, as a little kid, I thought it was funny. I can understand why he may still hold some ill-will towards that one.
It’s not as if he was always so nice to me, either. We had the typical brother/sister relationship. Since I was younger, it was easy to either ignore me entirely or manipulate my naive mind for his gain. I can’t even count how many times I was grounded just by following his lead. Which reminds me, I think my nephew is in need of a drum set this year.
August 04 2009
Growing up, I was never the girliest of girls. Instead of playing with dolls, you could usually find me involved in a game of wiffle ball with my brother. I was an excellent tree climber and mud pie maker. I would trample through the forests around my parents’ house and not care if I came back dirty and gross. Most of my friends were neighborhood boys and we would ride our bikes across gravel roads for hours on end.
This is why I’ve always felt more conditioned to being the mother of boys.
When I found out I was pregnant with a girl, I would wonder (almost worry) if she would epitomize all things frilly and sparkly. Or if she would be just as happy stomping through mud puddles.
So far, Abby has become a pint-sized fashion diva; if she doesn’t care for the dress she’s currently wearing, she’ll try to take it off. She gravitates towards pink. She likes to have her hair brushed. She lights up when someone calls her pretty. She has a fetish for shoes. She doesn’t like to be messy. She’s gentler, yet more demanding. She’s cute and she knows it.
She’s a definite girl. A frilly, sparkly little girl. Who hopefully won’t mind stomping through a few mud puddles as she grows older.
May 29 2009
When I was in the 3rd grade, I entered our school spelling bee. I loved spelling. In fact, it was my best subject, as far as elementary school subjects go. (Why don’t they have spelling in high school? I gladly would have taken that over algebra.) I even studied a pocket dictionary with my parents for days before the event.
Game, set, match during the competition. The other classmates were dropping off like flies. It was down to myself and another red-haired, pig-tailed, freckle-faced, tie-dyed girl. When my turn came, the announcer read, “Your next word is ‘please’.”
“Please”, I repeated. “P L E A S – Please.”
The E? WHERE’S THE BLASTED E? As soon as I said it, I knew what I had done. With that, my hopes and dreams of being the GREATEST SPELLER EVER were dashed. Cue dramatic drop to ground and fist clench. I COULD HAVE BEEN SOMEBODY.
The other girl’s winning word was school. How easy is that? Who doesn’t know how to spell school?
May 18 2009
I do not like to drive. In fact, I quite loathe the entire driving experience. This is why, shortly after becomming a stay home mom, I stupidly allowed my license to expire. It had been over 4 years since I even touched a steering wheel. Until yesterday, that is.
While I could probably spend the rest of my life as a happy passenger, reason has recently got the better of me. It might be wise to become a legal motorist again, if nothing else than for those “what if” scenarios. As I sat in the driver’s side for the first time in 4 years on a practice run, it was almost like I was 16 years old again and a “Student Driver” sticker had been afixed to the car door. Only I wasn’t trying too hard to be deep and misunderstood, my mouth wasn’t lined in braces, and my daughter was sleeping peacefully in the backseat. Plus, I kind of knew what I was doing. So not like 16 at all, I guess. Thank God.
As it turns out, driving a car is a lot like riding a bike. Even after a number of years have passed, the main gist is still clear: keep in your lane, don’t hit anything. My feelings on the matter haven’t changed, either. I’m much more akin to the passenger seat.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
