I Was The Kind of Kid Who..

Let me preface this post by saying that I think very kindly of my former odd little self.  I was such a sweet, sensitive, anxiety ridden little child who was strong-willed, competitive, and hardworking.  Nonetheless, I thought I would participate in The Daily Tay's fun LinkUp and share a few of my odder childhood eccentricities. Take a minute to share one or two of your own below! 

I was the kind of kid who...

Wouldn't Have Talked To You.

If you were not in my immediate family or you were not my next door neighbor, Jessie P., then you quite frankly made me very nervous. Especially you, waiter at Applebee's.  

This also pertains to giving performances at half-time for the entire High School Homecoming crowd.  I signed up and practiced my little heart out, but then came the day to perform and I cried hysterically and was overcome with fear and dread and anger for being forced to go anyways... "she was such a cheerful child"..... said no one. 

Wouldn't Have Eaten Your Food.

Unless you were serving Chicken Fingers with Barbecue Sauce or a Peanut Butter and Sugar sandwich (on white bread).  (Yes, Peanut Butter and a light dusting of sugar.. get your jelly away from my sandwich).  

My parents once told me to eat everything on my plate before I was allowed to leave the table.  It was probably something unbearable... like spaghetti.  I sat for hours, until they came back inside and realized that I was still sitting there like a little stubborn weirdo who was such a nervous rule-follower, that I hadn't yet moved from my chair. 

I Never Slept, like ever.

My mother reminds me that I came out crying and basically didn't stop for my first year on this earth.  In addition, I never slept. My sleeplessness lasted from birth-college, and returns when my routine-oriented husband travels.  My mom took me to a pediatrician who recommended getting me a T.V. for my bedroom. Thus, an infomercial addiction was born. Genius idea, doc.  

You wouldn't have invited me to a sleep over... a second time

Sure we'd spend the day having a great ol' time performing imaginary concerts off your back porch for thousands of adoring fans.  We'd both agree that this good time shouldn't have to come to an end just because the sun was about to set... "Why not have a sleep over?" You'd ask. I'd say "Sure!" and call my mom for permission.  But then as soon as the lights went off and I was in bed, I would hear every weird noise that your creaky house made and associate it with everything that was awful in the world, and cry until my mom picked me up. Your Night = Ruined.  Better mortified than murdered by the ghouls that haunt your weird house at night, I'd think. 

"Could entertain myself."

My mind is a wild and beautiful place, and it has always been that way.  When I asked my mom to finish the sentence "Al was the kind of kid who"... one of the first things she said was, "You were the type of kid who was never bored.  You could always entertain yourself and never needed a friend over all the time or wanted to go somewhere or do something."  

It's true.  I was going places far and wide in my own mind.  I absolutely loved to read, and would re-live the stories that I read in my thoughts as if I were the protagonist.  I also loved to write my own stories, and kept multiple journals.  The picture of me in the sandbox was a classic warm weather past-time.  I would spend literally hours alone building small villages in the sand with deep rivers and develop stories for the lives of the imaginary villagers.  I would then run back and forth to the kitchen filling cups of water to bring my rivers to life.  

The most mundane things like driving 10 hours to Detroit in an old Astro van for my brother's weekend soccer tournament, was a journey. 

was very. Very. sensitive.

We had an assignment in 5th grade to bring in our favorite song lyrics to read to the class.  I wanted to bring in Alanis Morissette's, "Ironic."  I poured over her lyrics trying to make sense of the words.  "10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife"... Got It.. Been there...   Other parts of the song were less clear. I asked my mom what, "A death row pardon...two minutes too late." meant.   She explained what it meant, and then I spent the remainder of my night crying.  A little too ironic.  Ya I really did think.  My lyric presentation was a far stretch from the kid who chose "Tubthumpin'" by Chumbawumba and repeatedly said in a monotone voice, "Pissing The Night Away. Pissing The Night Away" in front of the entire class.  Which was soon followed by me holding back tears as I shared that this man had waited his whole (bleep) life... to take a flight... and then the plane crashed down...    Cruel. Cruel. World!!

Wanted to Make You Happy.

Just as sensitive as I was to other people's pain, I was also very sensitive in regard to their judgement towards me. I remember very vividly having to "turn my card" in 2nd grade because I was talking when I wasn't supposed to be.  With shaky legs and a bright red face I stood and walked towards my beautiful shiny green card, and began to cry silent tears as I moved it to the yellow card which transformed in my mind to a vivid spotlight which now shone brightly for all to see.   Oh, the horror and humiliation. I'm fairly certain I didn't speak for the rest of the week.  

Once I got so angry at my mom and brother, that I went upstairs and wrote a letter to my dad informing him that I was running away.  I let him know that I had $200 in my savings account, and that I would be ok.   Later, I regretted my impulsive decision and spent a solid hour scribbling out every inch of that passage. "Oh why did I use ink!!!  What would they think of me if I died, and these were my last words?!" 

Really Liked Boys.

And I listened to my parents when they said things like, "You're going out?!?! That doesn't make since.  Where ya going?!  It's called "going steady."   Ugh.  I had diary entries for days about "going study" with boys.  I'm surprised these boys were wooed at all by my 60-year old vernacular... along with my utter refusal to wear anything other than sweatpants with elastic around the ankles (for like a solid year). 

So, let's hear it!  What kind of a kid were you?  Comment Below!


The Daily Tay

Airbnb: Miami Edition

r.m. drake