The Ones That Got Retold...

*Written in response to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop prompt...

You know the stories that are retold a million times at family gatherings? I call them Life Stories that you just never live down. List your Top 10 Life Stories.

Okay, Here Goes...

1. When I was five years old my dad met Lynne, the lady who would become his second wife and like a second mother to me.  She had a daughter two years younger than myself.  She was not shy. I was. Extremely. On  the night we met for the first time, the four of us were in the car and she just kept chattering, chattering, chattering...on and on...When suddenly, in mid-sentence, she stopped and shouted, "Mama, Mama! Can she TALK?!"  Neither of us have ever lived that down which was a little annoying when I was growing up but is now one of my favorite childhood memories.


2. I had two little identical giraffes that, looking back on, resembled squeaky toys for dogs(heck, maybe they were!) that I got at K-Mart when I was really young...probably three, I'm guessing. Only I thought they were rabbits and they felt cold to my touch so I called them "Cold Rabbits"  and I did not leave the house without them.  If I left them at my babysitter's house somebody was driving back across town or she was going to have the longest phone conversation of her life in order to assure me that she would put them to bed and take extra good care of them until morning.  


3. I pretended my dolls were real babies for a long time...way after I was old enough to know better. I wrote a post about Shelia Claudia once I know but she was my favorite.  I still have her.  Anyway, I once pulled the Christmas tree over on my little brother and Shelia but all I could say was,"SHELIA!  SHELIA! OMG, GET SHELIA! SHE'S UNDER THE TREE!"  Yeah, that one did not go over well and was brought up for a long time.  I think my dad wanted to wring my neck and burn Shelia at the stake.  


4. I was born disorganized and my room was almost always a disaster area.  One Spring it started stinking something horribly awful and we could NOT find where the funk was coming from.  Eventually, we did.  It was rotten Easter eggs still in my basket in my closet. From Easter. That had long since come and gone.   


5. After waiting in a really, really long line for a really, really long time to get an immunization I needed to start school, I bolted.  My mother chased me all the way down the hallway and to the Exit door that I was about to bust down before she caught me and dragged my little butt back in there to get my shot as all the other well-behaved children who were lined up neatly in single file fashion looked on in horror. 


6. I got a note sent home for unruly conduct by the band teacher in middle school.  My mother didn't know whether to punish me or to just simply be relieved that I'd finally come out of my shell.  


7. There are very few professional photos of my baby and toddler years because I was appalled by photographers and even got so upset once that I threw up all over one. Or so I've heard it told.  A few times.


8. I was notorious for getting sick on or just before a big vacation.  I was running a fever and throwing back shots of cold and cough medicine that I had stashed in my fanny pack, along with my Kleenexes, at Disney World in 1995.  In the hottest part of summer. 

9. To say that I overreacted and over-dramatized any situation that involved me getting hurt in any way, shape, form or fashion would be an understatement of ginormous proportions. And I know I've told this story once on this blog before but the best example and the one I never did live down happened at my Dad's and Lynne's house...


We were outside playing when I hurt my foot somehow.  I can't even remember how now but I was all kinds of hysterical.  I was carrying on in a big way... screaming, squealing, yelling, moaning, crying out in agonizing oh- my-sweet-Jesus-I'm-dying pain.  


Lynne had not yet experienced the magnitude of my drama so she came out of the house fully expecting to see a severed limb or a gouged out eyeball when I, through sulks, sobs and tears said, "My-f-f-f-foot!  I-hurt-my-f-f-f-foot and it's b-b-b-bleeeeding!"  as I thrust my foot into the air to show off my injuries.  Only to realize that I.had.the.wrong.dang.foot.  


Oops.  My bad.  


So I paused, took a breath, and said, "It's the OTHER one!  It's the OTHER one!" as I thrust the real hurt foot into the air and continued on with my performance.   


10. Okay, I can't even believe I'm about to tell y'all this one but it too was frequently brought up throughout the years and also when I was spending weekends with my Dad and Lynne... 


I had some really smelly gas and had been dropping silent bombs in the car that were so bad everyone was cracking their windows and doing the whole gagging with their tongues out routine when I inhaled deeply, got a devilish grin on my face, and without even thinking, shouted out,"I LIKE TO SMELL MY OWN FARTS!"