20/30: Memories

Oh Those Good Old Days...

{If you missed the beginning of the 30 Day Challenge you can find it here}


I'm supposed to write about three significant memories from my childhood.  All three of them make me laugh and I hope they do the same for you.  And if you know the boy from memory number two, you'll understand why it was so great when he finally left me alone.  ha!

1.  One Christmas, when Sam was probably no older than four, we were living in our old house in Culpeper.  Sam and I had a tradition where we always slept in the same room (either on the floor or in a bed) and woke up together the next morning.  This particular year, neither of us could sleep because we were so excited.  I told Sam that we could go see if Santa had been to our house yet as long as she was quiet and she agreed.  We snuck down the hall into our playroom and lo and behold there were tons of presents!  I went poking around a little bit and then all the sudden I heard, "LOOK AT ALL THE PRESENTS!"  Sam had yelled out and I was positive we woke up Mom and Dad.  And sure enough, they came in the room at 5am and let us open our gifts.  

2.  When I was younger I used to swim for the Rec Club during the summer in Culpeper.  After swim practice, a lot of my friends would stay and play and hang out at the pool.  I was there every single day, even on the weekends.  One weekend (I was in middle school around this time) both of my parents, my friend Laura and her family, and I think John and his family were there with a bunch of other people we knew.  All of us kids liked to play sharks and minnows in the deep end when it wasn't too crowded, and that is what we were doing on this particular day.  I used to swim on the very bottom because the "sharks" liked to go for all the people who swam towards the surface first.  One boy, Alex Parr, figured out what I was doing and decided to come after me.  I had figured out long before that if I put lotion on my arms and legs the "sharks" couldn't catch me.  So, when Alex grabbed my leg his hand slid right off and I just kept swimming.  This happened a few more times before I was able to reach the other side safely.  The second go around Alex came after me again, more determined to catch me than before.  He pulled my hair, I kicked him in the knee.  He grabbed the back of my bathing suit, I kicked him in the knee again.  Then, he took his ridiculously long nails (for a boy) and scratched my back up.  It hurt like heck and I'm pretty sure I screamed under water.

After the game was over I got out and my dad caught a look at my red and swollen backside.  He asked me what happened and I told him what Alex did.  The next thing I knew, he was over at the side of the deep end calling Alex over to him.  I knew what was about to happen and I inched closer to hear what Dad was going to say.  He told Alex that if he ever caught him coming near me or hurting me again he'd pull him out of the water so fast he wouldn't know what hit him.  There was probably other things that we said but I truly don't remember.  After that, Alex was too scared to even come talk to me when my dad was around and he rarely bothered me.  I'd never been more thankful for my dad at that moment.

3.  When I was in the 5th grade I was at my school really early to go on a field trip.  We were all in the bathroom before loading the bus and all the girls were talking about when they found out there was no Santa Clause.  I didn't believe them (and told them so) but they continued to tell me there wasn't one and I should ask my parents.  That got me thinking....the writing from Santa did look an awful lot like my mom's handwriting.  And there was always a closet that was locked downstairs only during Christmastime.  I then resolved to stay home the following day and ask my mom about it.

The next day I faked being sick so I could stay home with my mom.  She was folding clothes in her room on her dresser when I came in and stood beside her.  She looked down and asked me what was wrong, and I told her I had something important to ask but she had to promise to tell me the truth.  She smiled and said yes, but her smile faded quickly once I asked her about Santa.  She paused before answering, and I knew what she was going to say before it came out of her mouth.  When she confirmed my suspicions, I began to cry and demanded to know why she'd tell me something like that.  Then, my over-dramatic self took over and told her that she ruined Christmas for me and I ran into my room and flung myself on the bed (<-- that was an oscar winning performance if I do say so myself!)