I have no idea what my earliest memory is. I've never understood people who could say without doubt what their earliest memory was. I have lots of memories from when I was little, but I don't know what is the earliest. So I'll just tell a few of them.
I remember learning to blow bubbles with my bubblegum. I don't think Mom expected it to be quite the hassle that it was. I sat in her lap, facing her, while she showed me what to do. We were sitting in the rocking chair. Not sure why I remember that, but I do. Anyway, I kept laughing. I guess I thought it was super funny for some reason. And, come to find, laughing and blowing a bubble don't go well together. Meaning that I kept spitting my gum out onto Mom's lap. And (surprise, surprise), spitting gum at my Mom made laugh all the more. It was a vicious cycle. To be completely honest, I'm not entirely certain just how I managed to learn to blow a bubble. But I'm pretty good at it now :~) Everyone should be so fortunate to have a Mom that they spit gum at.
I would get out of bed late at night (well, late for me. My parents were still awake), and I would go out into the hallway by my room to pet my Mom's cat Chelsea if she didn't come into my room to visit me. She often came and jumped on my bed, but I sort of needed to pet her before I went to sleep. I had this pattern where I would scratch her head, run my hand down her back and scratch her butt, then slide down from her butt to her belly and rub her belly (I have no clue why she tolerated that...she was not like Marius who likes having his belly rubbed...). Then I would run my hand up her stomach/side, gently so I didn't muss her fur, give her a scratch under the chin, and then go up to her ears and start over. I had no idea at the time that it was probably a sign of OCD. It was just what I did with Chelsea. And she patiently let me do it as many times as I wanted. It was always the best during winter when the dry air made her fur spark. It was like little fireworks in her fur. The first few times it happened, I worried that the sparks would light my blanket on fire and burn the house down. The I learned that the sparks were not dangerous, and I loved it. It was so pretty.
I used to have a very hard time saying the name Carla. Why the heck my parents had to choose such an impossible name, I'll never know. I started out saying something along the lines of Doila. Not sure why I couldn't handle the C, but I've struggled with the rl sound in words my whole life. I finally managed her name, after quite a lot of mini speech therapy with my Mom (I remember saying the word "door" a lot to get my mouth used to r). But then I learned that Carla passionately hated it when I called her Darla. Especially since I didn't have to anymore. So I did it frequently.
I have lots of good memories from when I was little. Can't even put these in order though. Any one of them could have come first. Who knows. But I'm ok with that. I still remember them, so that's enough for me.
I remember learning to blow bubbles with my bubblegum. I don't think Mom expected it to be quite the hassle that it was. I sat in her lap, facing her, while she showed me what to do. We were sitting in the rocking chair. Not sure why I remember that, but I do. Anyway, I kept laughing. I guess I thought it was super funny for some reason. And, come to find, laughing and blowing a bubble don't go well together. Meaning that I kept spitting my gum out onto Mom's lap. And (surprise, surprise), spitting gum at my Mom made laugh all the more. It was a vicious cycle. To be completely honest, I'm not entirely certain just how I managed to learn to blow a bubble. But I'm pretty good at it now :~) Everyone should be so fortunate to have a Mom that they spit gum at.
I would get out of bed late at night (well, late for me. My parents were still awake), and I would go out into the hallway by my room to pet my Mom's cat Chelsea if she didn't come into my room to visit me. She often came and jumped on my bed, but I sort of needed to pet her before I went to sleep. I had this pattern where I would scratch her head, run my hand down her back and scratch her butt, then slide down from her butt to her belly and rub her belly (I have no clue why she tolerated that...she was not like Marius who likes having his belly rubbed...). Then I would run my hand up her stomach/side, gently so I didn't muss her fur, give her a scratch under the chin, and then go up to her ears and start over. I had no idea at the time that it was probably a sign of OCD. It was just what I did with Chelsea. And she patiently let me do it as many times as I wanted. It was always the best during winter when the dry air made her fur spark. It was like little fireworks in her fur. The first few times it happened, I worried that the sparks would light my blanket on fire and burn the house down. The I learned that the sparks were not dangerous, and I loved it. It was so pretty.
I used to have a very hard time saying the name Carla. Why the heck my parents had to choose such an impossible name, I'll never know. I started out saying something along the lines of Doila. Not sure why I couldn't handle the C, but I've struggled with the rl sound in words my whole life. I finally managed her name, after quite a lot of mini speech therapy with my Mom (I remember saying the word "door" a lot to get my mouth used to r). But then I learned that Carla passionately hated it when I called her Darla. Especially since I didn't have to anymore. So I did it frequently.
I have lots of good memories from when I was little. Can't even put these in order though. Any one of them could have come first. Who knows. But I'm ok with that. I still remember them, so that's enough for me.
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