I feel I always got along with guys way easier than girls.
With guys, they're laidback... chill, and not trying to compete unless it's target practice in the men's room.
With girls, it always felt forced... competition-fueled cattiness getting high off gossip fumes in the ladies' room.
Maybe I'm just not like other girls.
In all honesty – that could very well be it.
Not to toot my own horn or anything... but I was pretty in demand with the boys in my younger days. I'm telling you; my elementary school days were wild! But I did supposedly have quite a lot of innocent relationships when I was a child. For example, my dad's best friend and his wife had their son, Evan, around the same time my mom and dad had me. So, I think me and Evan went through that cliché "pre-arranged marriage" that some parents kinda joke about with close friends when they have children around the same age growing up together.
According to eyewitness testimony, whenever my Momma would come to pick me up from daycare, she would have to wait for me to go through a line of boys waiting to hug me goodbye for the day. I was suspended for one whole day from kindergarten once because a boy dared to kiss me. Well, I bit him because he tried to kiss me... okay? That's beside the point... the sheer audacity, I know. I wish I could remember who it was just out of curiosity. Like, how hilarious would it have been to have that happen and it end up being one of my main crushes or flings when I was in high school, ya know what I mean? Anyways, moving along.
I'm ashamed to admit, there was a time in my life when I let others influence what I did or how I viewed something... whether I agreed or not. Growing up, I did some things that interested me despite outside persuasion but, more often than not, I usually did what everyone else wanted me to do. Never wanting to cause unwanted tension or controversy and just wanting to please everyone else, I never really cared about my happiness or made myself a priority. Looking back, that's probably why I struggled to fit in and find the identity of who I was truly meant to be, not the million other things I thought I was meant to be in life. Honestly, I still struggle with that to this day. But again, it could just be how much I feel I differ from other girls.
For example, most girls my age love shoes... I don't think I need to elaborate any further on that stereotype. A lot of girls love a variety of shoes – different styles, different types, different uses, etcetera, etcetera. Give me a pair of flip-flops, a pair of boots, a pair of house shoes, and a pair of tennis shoes, and I'm all set. I do have several pairs of dressier shoes that I thrifted, but I hardly ever wear them.
I do love makeup – but because I play with it. I haven't been able to learn all those cool tips and tricks, and probably wouldn't do things how they're supposed to be done. But isn't makeup kind of like, artistic – therefore, subjective – anyway? I don't know. Just a thought. I just do what works for me. Depending on the mood I'm in, that could range from full-on red-carpet glam... to the bare minimum... which consists of covering pimples up or a touch of blush and balm.
That's kinda fun to say... "blush 'n balm," faux trademark pending.
Literally faux... as in, fake. But it's still fun to say!
Blush 'n balm!
Growing up, I remember blowing daffodils while simultaneously making wishes that I would ultimately forget over time, as tree frogs and cicadas found common ground as their harmonious songs made up nature's music in unison. I remember my dad catching fireflies and would somehow make rings out of them. Just to be clear, I don't condone making rings out of the rear ends of fireflies... just noting something I remember specifically from my childhood.
This wouldn't be the last of the outrageousness I'd see from my dad as I continued growing up. Instead of getting freaked out by ping pong balls being taped to his eyeballs when I was a toddler, I was curious and tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with my dad!
Turns out... a lot. That said, have you ever met someone who was "Jackassing" before Jackass was even popular? That was my dad. For anyone who needs to hear it – a smoke ball firework lit in between your bare butt crack... is never a good idea.
Pretend I'm inserting that "The more you know" clip here... complete with the shooting star. Let's move along... for everyone's sake.
I was way more obsessed with my little brother's Hot Wheels cars and this cool ramp set that he had to go with them... than the perfectly good Barbie dolls I had in my room. I mean, I did have this dollhouse that I was obsessed with, but because it was super unique. My mom won it in a way that was almost kismet, and it wasn't one of those dreamhouse brands that any one of my peers could just buy off the shelf. It was custom, only one of its kind made.
It was around Christmas time and my momma was in a hurry when she had to run into Walmart to grab something. I'm sure many Walmart shoppers know that vendors will sometimes set up shop, and camp outside the store to catch customers as they're coming and going. This is usually done as a soliciting tactic or fundraising effort of some kind.
On my mom's way out that day, there were people selling raffle tickets for a custom dollhouse, proceeds being donated to a local charity. My mom didn't have time to fill out a ticket and explained that even though she would love it for her daughter, she probably wouldn't win anyway, so she just gave them a quick donation. The woman asked my mom's name as she walked away, quickly asking for her phone number before she was out of earshot. Back then, you could call anyone within the States without entering the area code first, so it took less time to tell someone the entirety of your phone number in a shorter time frame. Technology has come a long way since then. I remember when my momma got one of the O.G. cell phones... the clunky, prehistoric dinosaur fossil flip models that predated the ones you see in 'Clueless' and stuff. Almost everyone has a fancy smartphone now, including kids. I wasn't allowed a cell phone until I began driving around fifteen and sixteen, and that was just so my dad could keep tabs on me.
Hey, I ain't complaining... if it got me a cell phone, I didn't mind.
Fast forward to later that evening, when my mom got a call from the people holding the contest, informing her that she had won. I would be giving you an underwhelming reaction if I told you that I simply liked it... no. I loved that dollhouse!
I completely, albeit unfortunately, understand what my momma meant when she said she wouldn't win anyway, as it has always been like that for me, too. For example, I guess you could say I hit the lottery... but in unfortunate ways. I'll get more into that later in the series. But I will just say that if I were to participate in any kind of contest or lottery or anything like that, they would probably end up calling me to tell me that I owed them something.
Moving back to the topic. Quit distracting me! Kidding.
If I had to name my top favorite things I had in my room at any given time, I'd have said my dog, my custom-built dollhouse, my bulky remote-controlled boombox that held up to 5 interchangeable CDs at a time, and my Sega Genesis.
My canine companion, a rat terrier named Itchy...
...check.
Late 90's to Early 2000s music blaring, but still at a Momma-approved volume while singing like no one was watching into my hairbrush and jumping around in front of my mirror like I was a pop star in front of thousands of screaming fans...
...check.
Sonic the Hedgehog and Pac-Man cartridges spilling over a Capri-Sun pouch in one hand, a controller in the other...
...check.
I do remember having this life-size Barbie, though. I liked that because I always felt like I had a friend sleeping over and someone to talk to.
Rainbow Brite was my favorite cartoon character, while Belle, Pocahontas, and Ariel were my favorite Disney Princesses growing up – I always loved how they were unapologetically themselves. They always did their thing and didn't care what others thought about it. Not much has changed, my favorite Disney films – in no specific order – consist of Beauty & the Beast, Pocahontas, Return to Oz, The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Little Mermaid, Babes in Toyland (the Annette Funicello and Ed Wynn version), The Gnome-Mobile, Wreck-It Ralph, and The Greatest Showman.
You know... since y'all were dying to know and everything. But it does show my wide range of interests.
Sarcasm.
I've always been obsessed with anything having to do with cherries, anything turquoise or aquatic. I remember having this favorite toy that was just an accessory to this Baby Alive doll I had. It was this teal spoon that you dunked into a jar of like, cherry baby food; and when you pulled the once-empty spoon out of the jar, there would now be cherries on the spoon. I think there was some sort of mechanism inside the toy spoon being triggered by a different mechanism inside the baby food jar. So, that was not just something cherry-themed, but also turquoise because the spoon was teal. I also had a Polly Pocket that was also light teal blue, and I believe shell-shaped. My brother also had this aquatic night light thing inside his crib that looked like fish were swimming around that I found super intriguing.
I grew up watching Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Batman with my cousins. These cousins and I were all very close in age, my momma and her sister, my Aunt Leigh, are close sisters who are also close in age, born two years apart, my mom being the older of the two. There was Charlie, who was only two months older than me, and his sister, Dewey. I'm a pinch off my Nana and Aunt Leigh's butt cheeks... we joke that Charlie could easily be my mom's kid, and I could be Aunt Leigh's. So, it's safe to say that we grew up very close as kids – but the awkwardness of middle school happened... prompting Charlie and me to slowly grow apart. I wish he and I could have carried that cousinly friendship over as we continued to grow up and into adulthood.
But he was too cool for me, you know.
(awkward silence)
I kid, I kid.
But, for serious, we've gotten a little closer again over the years; I love him and his family so stinkin' much. His kids are technically my cousins, but they have always been... and always will be... my niece and nephew. I love them both to pieces.
I am moving on to my cousin, Dewey. Dewey and I have always been friends – unless she doesn't feel like it – then you can expect to get slapped. Or, if you're sitting directly to her right, then you'll get something thrown in your direction. Allow me to explain. Dewey is approximately two and a half years older than me and is developmentally disabled, has a few different special characteristics in addition to autism, non-verbal, and is the family baby. Which, I assure you, we fellow kids are more than okay with.
I honestly watch my Aunt Leigh juggle all the responsibilities she has. Dewey always has the most positive and happy energy about her... except when she doesn't. And when Dewey ain't happy – ain't nobody happy. I say all this in good humor, which my family knows all too well. My Aunt Leigh is friggin' Diana Carter complete in her Wonder Woman outfit and Lasso of Truth. My cousin has it made with not just a beautiful and bubbly personality, but an equally beautiful life that my aunt and grandparents have all made sure she's guaranteed to have.
Then I had a few cousins that I also mostly played with growing up. Well, one is technically a cousin, and one is technically my uncle... here, allow me to explain. Remember how I said my cousin's kids are my niece and nephew even though they're technically my cousins? Okay, try to follow along for a moment, I know it's a bit confusing. If I'm being for serious, the only reason I'm not confused by it all is because I lived it firsthand. Otherwise – I'd be scattered every which way to the wind when it comes to my family and its dynamic.
My dad and his second brother are close in age. But my paternal grandmother got pregnant later in life with his younger brother. She was pregnant with him at my mom and dad's wedding.
So, my dad's youngest brother is technically my uncle, but we're so close in age that we're more like cousins. My dad's other brother, the one closest to him in age, also has a daughter close to me in age... so we would all play together whenever around my dad's side of the family.
I know how confusing that sounds. Again, I lived it – that's the only reason I'm not confused by it. I had one cousin who passed away soon after birth from sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS). He was the son of the uncle closest to my dad in age, we'll call him Dallas.
Me and those cousins growing up would be obsessed with the Power Rangers – my cousin and I arguing over who got to be the pink ranger. I usually won. But, fortunately for my cousin, that wasn't the only thing we loved doing.
My paternal grandpa built this cool tire swing and hung it from this huge tree in their yard for us, as well as this cool see-saw style merry-go-round kinda thing. That's hard to describe because it was unique – but so much fun! It was a long wooden board with a broken-down metal lawn chair secured at each end; the middle of the board was attached to this spinning mechanism-type thing secured into the ground. My dad, uncle, and grandpa would take turns spinning all the kids on it – it was so much fun. Then we also had this playhouse there that my grandpa built for us to play in.
I loved playing outside at my paternal grandparents' house because both my grandma and grandpa chain-smoked like freight trains. Now regardless of your opinion on this matter, the only reason it bothered me when I was younger was because I have terrible asthma. So, I enjoyed all the things I was able to do while playing in the fresh air whenever I was at their house.
I can remember our first house vividly. We lived behind the town nursing home; a public soccer field separated our house from the backside of the nursing home. Back behind our house were mudbogging events. We had apple trees in our backyard and across the adjoining property, as well as... a cherry tree in the front yard.
I mentioned I've always had an affinity for cherries – and I am literally from where wild cherries grow. William and Dorothy were our neighbors directly across the street from us and were truly amazing. With our permission, William would come over and pick the wild cherries off our tree regularly; the birds never bothered the tree or plucked copious amounts of cherries from it. When William passed away, however – birds suddenly began swarming the tree like never before... plucking the tree clean of the cherries' presence and flying away with them. I just thought this was a cool little tidbit to include, so that's why I did. Whether you consider that pure coincidence or a clear sign from above – it's still ironic and lowkey kinda cool to think about.
We had Itchy, the rat terrier I mentioned earlier. He was my little shadow and companion who went everywhere I went. I don't recall this happening, but I do recall hearing all about it from sources who were there and do recall the events that took place. My dad was changing my little brother's diaper when Itchy came bumbling into the room just before grabbing my brother's dirty, number two diaper – and promptly making a run for it.
I even had a parakeet at one point named Flit – named after the bird in Pocahontas.
Oh, my wowza.
That was an abrupt segue into a subject change – from a subject about a diaper change.
Would you look at that...? My attention deficit hyperactivity is showing...
... how embarrassing!
There are so many things I remember about that house that made up the essential fibers of my childhood. My dad would do a lot of questionable things throughout my upbringing – one story always comes to mind. It involved a family of skunks settling in under our house, directly under one of our vents. I won't say what my dad decided to do instead of calling animal control, but it led to the mother skunk getting extremely angry... followed by an appetite for vengeance. She became angry enough that she would pull any towels through our vents when we'd attempt to cover them, and our house smelled of skunk for months. My dad also had all these goals; different avenues of things he wanted to do and accomplish in life – and for some reason, raising rabbits in our backyard... was one among many of those things. For the life of me, I couldn't tell you what happened to them when he became disinterested. I don't say this negatively. I'm the exact same way, having a lot of goals I'd love to eventually accomplish.
I recall something significant: I used to be daddy's little girl – make note, I made a point to say "used to be." My dad would hang this hammock up in the center of our living room, and I loved slowly swinging in it with him. I even have this picture taken during his brief stint in the National Guard, where he has a teddy bear in hand, decked out in military fatigues just like his, and he is holding it out to a diaper-clad me.
I remember having the board game called, "Pretty Pretty Princess," the O.G. one. When I was little, I loved wearing the tiara from the game. To be transparent, my parents could have easily just bought me a dress-up tiara for me to wear around the house. The only thing with that, however, is... I don't know. I guess I just wanted the fairytale and the satisfaction of knowing that I earned the right to wear the crown and the happiness that came along with the win.
I'm fully aware that probably won't make sense to everyone... but I guess that's the beauty of being a flawed human. I know I probably shouldn't have felt that way, but I did.
Every Halloween, we'd go trick or treating – but the neighbor's house across the street was always on our list of places to stop at. I'm sure you remember which neighbors I'm referencing, the cherry-picking ones that we loved so stinkin' much. Usually, we went there first because we'd have to return home to empty our candy buckets afterward. This was because they'd put special bags to the side... bags made custom just for us.
They were truly amazing.
I remember a lot of my Halloween costumes growing up, as well. My paternal grandmother made them for me when I was little. One year I was the Queen of Hearts, another was Belle... another year, I was inspired by "I Dream of Jeannie". Instead of the pink parts of Barbara Eden's costume, mine were this metallic purple kind of fabric, with the red parts of her costume a gold-sequined type of fabric. They were all super cute.
But much like everything else in life... not all that glitters is gold. The upcoming part of the story is where the end of my naïve, skewed view of reality was ultimately shattered.
You know what's funny about life? Sometimes you remember things that happened a longer amount of time ago... but forget the details of the more recent things. I don't know about you, but I'm lowkey grateful for that. There's a lot I know I don't want to revisit.
But what happens later... is permanently etched in my brain. I can still remember that day like it was yesterday; everything was business as usual.
Until it wasn't.