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I was a cute kid.
Apr. 1st, 2005 06:39 pmI keep thinking "oh, I'm feeling so much better now!" But then I will get up, throw a load of clothes in the washer, blow my nose, and collect an armload of stuff to bring upstairs as I come. By the time I get here, I have a stitch in my side and am breathing like I've just run a marathon. (Which, I must confess, is approximately as close as I will almost certainly ever come to running a marathon.) Then I sit dully for five minutes, staring at nothing, before I remember that I was going to check my mail, or whatever it was I was coming upstairs for, and then I think perhaps I am not nearly as well as I think. I am, however, not quite as sick as I was two weeks ago. It is still kicking my ass, but seriously, two weeks ago--I have probably never been that sick (as an adult, can't vouch for how I felt as a child because I don't remember) before, and I'm not one of those people who will say that about every single sick they have. Although the doctor's visit on Wednesday was probably worse than the last event.. but by the time I got home and finally stopped crying I started feeling better. If that tells you anything about it.
I just remembered that I was probably sicker than that when I had chicken pox when I was about three. I barely remember it, but I do remember my brother tucking me into Mom's bed before he left for school. He had had it first and dutifully given it to me, and I believe I got it worse than he did. He brought all my Cabbage Patch dolls and my stuffed animals and piled them up with me in bed. (Isn't that adorable?) Then he left, and I took a nap, and when I woke up, I decided to get up. But.. I couldn't move the stuffed animals because I was so weak. Honestly, that's a true story, I really do remember that. And on another morning, he cut out a heart from some sort of yellow foam (no idea why foam) and gave it to me. I believe he felt somewhat guilty. *laugh*
See, that was a cute story about illness to make up for four months of complaining about being sick. Maybe? What about if I tell you that when I got over my chicken pox, my parents had a fight over one of my scars? My dad refused to let me get my ears pierced before I was five. My mom wanted to do it much younger, and I thought it would be great, too, but it was one of the few things of that nature that he really put his foot down over.. for whatever reason. He worked away during the weeks, so when he got home, he saw that I had a hole in my ear and glared at my mother and said, "You didn't!" and my mom, seeing what he was looking at, said, "No, I did NOT," and was extremely angry at him for suggesting that she had. And, no, I don't actually remember this. I've just heard the story a lot.
Actually, I have repeatedly heard a LOT of cute stories about myself when I was younger, and I think it was because I was both cute and too smart for my own good. (Okay, so sometimes when they tell these stories, they use words like "brat". Big deal!) I said a lot of funny things, some of which are now routinely used in the family. "Op' the door for me!" is one of their favorites. (Apparently I was hateful even as a toddler, as I said this with a snarl.) Probably my Aunt Rita's favorite story was when we were on the way to my grandfather's house, and I kept saying, "I need to oo-winate." (urinate, just in case you didn't get it.. it looks obvious in text but there's a particular intonation that accompanies it that doesn't quite translate.) See, I was a nerd even as a child--I was so little when I said it that it took them ten minutes to even understand what I was saying. And my Papaw's favorite seems to be the time we were headed to the shopping center after a big snow. It was January, and I found it greatly offensive that the evergreens on the hill were covered in snow and ice (since it was after Christmas), so I said angrily, "What them think them are doing?!" And my Mamaw used to like to talk about the time she lectured me on not saying "I know it" when someone told me I was pretty, I should say "Thank you". So then we went shopping, and someone told me that I was pretty, and I smiled politely and said, "Thank-you-I-know-it." (I have a picture to go with that story.. not of the actual incident but it always reminds me of that. If I run into it sometime, I'll scan it and write about it.)
(Yes, I know, I am all talking about how cute I was like it's perfectly okay to be wildly immodest, sorry about that, but since I outgrew it so swiftly, it doesn't bother me much to speak of better days.)
Oh! But even cuter than all that! My husband! He's cuter than that! Because he was kind of late to the whole language thing, and his parents were beginning to worry about him. (From what he said, I personally wasn't there so I don't know if they really were worried or not.) So, they were driving along one day, and he looks out of the car and points, saying "Many boats sail there on the water!" Only in Swedish, of course, and I would write the Swedish out but most of you wouldn't be able to read it anyway, so there. And I don't want to spell today, or create funny letters, so there, again. Only M goes from not speaking at all to speaking full sentences.. cute-o. He did the same thing with reading.. he suddenly started reading road signs to his parents one day, completely out of the blue. They thought it was cute but didn't believe he was really reading until he started reading signs that they knew he didn't just have memorized. But by then, they had encouraged him too much to read these signs, and so he kept on reading every single sign he saw until they wanted to smack him. Well, I don't know if they really wanted to smack him, I added that for artistic flair. And it was Sweden, so there wouldn't have been any smacking anyway. Smack is a good word, by the way. Although I guess by now it sort of has a drug connotation. I am not hip to the illicit lingo so I don't always think of these things.
Oh! And also, another cute M story! On his first plane ride, he looked out the window at all the pretty clouds, and said that now he knew why God lives in heaven. Isn't that precious? (And yes, that was in Swedish too, but this time I don't remember his exact phrasing anyway, so not even a tantalizing offer of that direct translation that I'm not going to do in any case.)
So that makes me wonder.. what cute things did you do when you were little?
I just remembered that I was probably sicker than that when I had chicken pox when I was about three. I barely remember it, but I do remember my brother tucking me into Mom's bed before he left for school. He had had it first and dutifully given it to me, and I believe I got it worse than he did. He brought all my Cabbage Patch dolls and my stuffed animals and piled them up with me in bed. (Isn't that adorable?) Then he left, and I took a nap, and when I woke up, I decided to get up. But.. I couldn't move the stuffed animals because I was so weak. Honestly, that's a true story, I really do remember that. And on another morning, he cut out a heart from some sort of yellow foam (no idea why foam) and gave it to me. I believe he felt somewhat guilty. *laugh*
See, that was a cute story about illness to make up for four months of complaining about being sick. Maybe? What about if I tell you that when I got over my chicken pox, my parents had a fight over one of my scars? My dad refused to let me get my ears pierced before I was five. My mom wanted to do it much younger, and I thought it would be great, too, but it was one of the few things of that nature that he really put his foot down over.. for whatever reason. He worked away during the weeks, so when he got home, he saw that I had a hole in my ear and glared at my mother and said, "You didn't!" and my mom, seeing what he was looking at, said, "No, I did NOT," and was extremely angry at him for suggesting that she had. And, no, I don't actually remember this. I've just heard the story a lot.
Actually, I have repeatedly heard a LOT of cute stories about myself when I was younger, and I think it was because I was both cute and too smart for my own good. (Okay, so sometimes when they tell these stories, they use words like "brat". Big deal!) I said a lot of funny things, some of which are now routinely used in the family. "Op' the door for me!" is one of their favorites. (Apparently I was hateful even as a toddler, as I said this with a snarl.) Probably my Aunt Rita's favorite story was when we were on the way to my grandfather's house, and I kept saying, "I need to oo-winate." (urinate, just in case you didn't get it.. it looks obvious in text but there's a particular intonation that accompanies it that doesn't quite translate.) See, I was a nerd even as a child--I was so little when I said it that it took them ten minutes to even understand what I was saying. And my Papaw's favorite seems to be the time we were headed to the shopping center after a big snow. It was January, and I found it greatly offensive that the evergreens on the hill were covered in snow and ice (since it was after Christmas), so I said angrily, "What them think them are doing?!" And my Mamaw used to like to talk about the time she lectured me on not saying "I know it" when someone told me I was pretty, I should say "Thank you". So then we went shopping, and someone told me that I was pretty, and I smiled politely and said, "Thank-you-I-know-it." (I have a picture to go with that story.. not of the actual incident but it always reminds me of that. If I run into it sometime, I'll scan it and write about it.)
(Yes, I know, I am all talking about how cute I was like it's perfectly okay to be wildly immodest, sorry about that, but since I outgrew it so swiftly, it doesn't bother me much to speak of better days.)
Oh! But even cuter than all that! My husband! He's cuter than that! Because he was kind of late to the whole language thing, and his parents were beginning to worry about him. (From what he said, I personally wasn't there so I don't know if they really were worried or not.) So, they were driving along one day, and he looks out of the car and points, saying "Many boats sail there on the water!" Only in Swedish, of course, and I would write the Swedish out but most of you wouldn't be able to read it anyway, so there. And I don't want to spell today, or create funny letters, so there, again. Only M goes from not speaking at all to speaking full sentences.. cute-o. He did the same thing with reading.. he suddenly started reading road signs to his parents one day, completely out of the blue. They thought it was cute but didn't believe he was really reading until he started reading signs that they knew he didn't just have memorized. But by then, they had encouraged him too much to read these signs, and so he kept on reading every single sign he saw until they wanted to smack him. Well, I don't know if they really wanted to smack him, I added that for artistic flair. And it was Sweden, so there wouldn't have been any smacking anyway. Smack is a good word, by the way. Although I guess by now it sort of has a drug connotation. I am not hip to the illicit lingo so I don't always think of these things.
Oh! And also, another cute M story! On his first plane ride, he looked out the window at all the pretty clouds, and said that now he knew why God lives in heaven. Isn't that precious? (And yes, that was in Swedish too, but this time I don't remember his exact phrasing anyway, so not even a tantalizing offer of that direct translation that I'm not going to do in any case.)
So that makes me wonder.. what cute things did you do when you were little?
