Mommy's Piggy Tales: Week 3: First Lessons

My mom took me out of the room and told me to stop crying and throwing a fit. I had gotten the silver candy-filled cupcake paper; I couldn't have the gold ballerina candle holder, too, if Kim had already chosen it. I should be nice to my friends or she'd send them home.

It still didn't seem fair to me that I couldn't have it all at my own 6th birthday party.

Trying to blow out the candles, with brother's help,

but before cake, there were sandwiches.

That summer had been hard enough already. My 3-year-old brother was being a streaking pest & had broken one of my favorite dolls. I had to take swimming lessons, and when we were told to scoop up water in our hands, I thought we were supposed to drink it, not blow bubbles. My dad thought I was being a poor winner and an even worse loser, so to teach me a lesson, he would soundly beat me at every game of checkers or Candyland until I acted like a good sport.

Then there were the pet problems. My first pet before we moved here was Les; they say I called him that when we got him because there would be "one less puppy" in the litter. A little German Shepherd becomes a big dog, and we had to get rid of him because he was always jumping all over us little kids & knocking us down. So they got us a hamster; the first one bit, and its replacement Curly, was put down before the year was out. I won a goldfish at the fair; it jumped out of the small bowl & died. We had the runt beagle from Papa P., and I called him Happy, 'cause as a new puppy he looked happy, even though he kept getting shoved out of the doghouse. Eating kid-table-droppings, he was now a big dog, too, and was always digging under the fence & out, so we had to send him back to Papa. Mom got us a long-haired dachshund; I called her Daisy, I guess after the comic strip dog, but I really didn't like her. She had bad breath. I wanted a rabbit. Or a cat. According to Dad, no way.

I tried running away from home to my Babchu up in Birmingham. I took all of my favorite things in my blocks bag, and my friend Kelly, too. We didn't get far. The trucks on the highway scared her. All I got out of that short trip was whipped, grounded, tired, a hole dragged into my blocks bag and my favorite toys & books scuffed. I did not get to live happily ever after with my grandmother.

First grade was full of a lot of "that's just the way life is, it ain't fair, get over it" lessons. I couldn't be queen, even on my birthday. If you scramble an egg, you have to wash the pan. If you sit on top of the swing-set & accidentally disturb a wasp's nest, you will get stung. Not good.

Class spring photo- that's me 1st row, 4th girl from right.

Yes, Mrs. Woody was that tall.

I went from a small private kindergarten, to a large public school on the other side of Brunswick. Something my mom would call "busing." I remember it being dark in the winter when I'd get on the bus. I didn't know anyone in Mrs. Woody's class; Michelle was in another classroom, as was Kelly.

I was shy and awkward; I had no clue how to make friends, unless someone approached me. Add to that, I was a bit naive. Or credulous. For example, two years ago when I first met Michelle, I think I asked her if she was a boy or a girl. Well, why not? Her hair was shorter than mine (which was short, since mine had just gotten long enough for spiky little piggy tails,) she was the first kid my age I'd seen with glasses, her play-clothes weren't frilly, and she was climbing trees with her big brother. I think it was her brother who might have said that she was "Michael," when I misheard her name. I was very embarrassed when Mommy told me I was wrong, that Michelle was a girl. And though my friends were sweet, they had their mean-girl sides and I went along with them. There was another girl in the neighborhood who seemed different; they didn't play with her, and the other girls plotted ways to trick her, like trying to give her a glass of muddy water. But when the other girls weren't around, I wanted to play with her; she seemed nice, it was just her mom who seemed mean. I didn't understand. Sometimes, my friends didn't want to play with me, either.

Fall photo, age 6

So, I'd spend time before school in the library, even though it was big & not at all the friendly place like the book mobile. I'd spend recess, not with the other girls playing jump rope, but with the boys who wouldn't let me play cars but would let me make "roads" though the pine straw. Sometimes I'd spend recess by myself out by the fence trying to count VW Things while I'd sing to myself about "twoallbeefpattiesspecialsaucelettucecheesepicklesonionsonasesameseedbun," or "Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us, all we ask is that you let us serve it your way." Not sure how I spent lunch, but it must not have been fun. If I found a quarter while waiting for the bus to take me home, I'd turn in into the school office because that's what you do if you find something that isn't yours. Gullible, that's me.

I don't remember playing much. I read a lot. I was an advanced reader, so I didn't take many lessons with my class, but was taught with a girl from another class. If there was any testing, like vision & hearing, mine was done separately. I even took a test that no one else in my class took; it was fun-- lots of word questions and puzzles. Years later, my dad would tell me it was an IQ test.

Yep, I was turning out to be different, and I was starting to notice. I tried to fit in.

Homemade Halloween costumes, brother as leopard, me as bunny.

(See, great pjs for brother.)

My mom made me a bunny costume for Halloween, and it was designed to be pjs, too. I loved it! No one else did. I was also called chicken for not going up to the "haunted house."

My parents asked me if I wanted a bike for Christmas, and I really did. They helped me pick out a beautiful bright blue one, and took me for an extra trip to Santa to add that to my list. Christmas morning I looked for it, but didn't see it, so I figured he left it for me in Birmingham. My parents had to show it to me behind the Christmas tree. All Christmas vacation, I rode it with its training wheels. One weekend in January, my dad helped me ride without training wheels, and I fell and scraped my knee. I was chicken. I did not get back on that bike. So I couldn't ride bikes with my friends.

Christmas morning, I'm looking everywhere for that bike

BUT behind the tree over by my mom....

I was waiting to lose my fourth tooth, while everyone else was going on eight. And I was scared to let anyone else wiggle them.

My dad would have get-togethers with a a co-worker who had kids the same age as us. One rainy weekend, we all went down to the Jacksonville Zoo. They put all 4 of us kids in the same car. All I remember was it was a long trip and the dads watching the orangutan. And missing the school field trip to see the high school put on the play "Treasure Island." No the zoo didn't making me miss out, but the chicken pox did. My mom SWEARS that the other kids had recovered & she didn't mean for us to catch it. (I haven't asked my dad.) So my classmates got to catch doubloons, and I got tepid baths and cold spray-downs with calamine lotion. I didn't even get pity or presents; that was for my brother who had dots even in his hair & his ears & his mouth & his eyes. Easter was kinda off that year, too.

Then the naval base shut down; Kim & Kelly had to move before the end of the school year. I hardly got to say good-bye. But I guess that was OK. My dad was given a new store assignment, too, and we moved to Warner Robins that summer before my 7th birthday.

Life is hard for a little kid.