We Want to Know. Q and A.

{1} Did you live in the same town or move around a lot as a child?

I surely did, and still do. I am 100%, Grade A, homegrown small town. Living in a town like mine has its good points and bad. A plus... we have few traffic jams, unless you get behind someone riding their lawn mower to the grocery store. I tell you no lies, people. Negatives? Well, I can’t mention them here. People know where I live and I don’t want my house to get egged or something. Seriously, though, I live in a pretty swell little place and there are only a few things I’d change.

{2} What were your parents like?

They were and are the salt of the earth. I thank God they’re mine every day, although, my mom needs to chill a bit. Nobody’s house has to be THAT clean. A little dirt is good for you... builds your immunity. No wonder I came down with tonsillitis every year as a child.

{3} Do you have any siblings? What were they like growing up?

I have one sister and I haven’t a clue what she was like growing up because she was almost 17 when I was born. I do know that she was a majorette in the high school marching band (that means she twirled a baton -heehee-) and pretended to play the saxophone in concert band. Oh, and she wore these really funky, pointed, dark-rimmed glasses. I’ll post a picture sometime. Then she’ll be sorry she never reads my blog.

She has also always been my second mother and is my daughter’s second mom, as well. I thank God for her, too.

{4} Share a short story from your childhood.

Hmmmm. Okay, I have two that have just come to mind…one about a chicken and another about being a chicken. I’ll have to go with the story about being a chicken. The actual chicken story just makes me sound like a serial killer in the making, so I better leave that one alone for now. Calm down, PETA people. I wasn’t very old at the time and I did feel remorse for what I almost did.

Anyway, back to the story about being a chicken. I was afraid of the dark. I was 5. No wait, I was 6, 7, 8, 9, ...15, 16, 17,.... Again, I tell no lies. Just ask my mom who still slept with me (at least until I would fall asleep), even until the night before my wedding. When I was but a wee chick I would start the night off by myself in my own bed. Once my parents were asleep, I would crawl out of my bed and across the floor until I reached their room (we lived in a small house, so it was a short trip), where I would pull my mother’s robe, also called a housecoat, off from the end of their bed to use as a blanket. Then I would settle in to sleep on the floor at the foot of their bed. I did this most every night. And every night I was caught just after I covered myself with my mom’s robe. I think that’s why she just started sleeping with me until I would fall asleep. It was easier on them, and definitely easier on my knees. And should I ever wake up in the middle of the night? She was always on call. “Maaamaa.”

{5} What did you look like?

Mostly, I always looked like I was up to something. My son has inherited this quality.

Me, circa 1973 or '74

Possibly in some early form of "time out".

This post is participating Mamarazzi and Alicia's "We Want to Know" series (#18)