Wee Me

Well, for whatever reason, even though I slept barely four hours last night and had a whirlwind of a work day, I’m more alert than I usually am by the end of the day so I thought I’d try something different. Rather than try and put together an epic novel of a post, I’ll maybe just try dropping a few snippets here and there. One thing that came to mind that I figured I could safely try to write (without having it mushroom out of control) would be some of my earliest childhood memories: I don’t remember much about each event, so that should keep me reined in 😉

First Memory…

This is the very earliest thing I can remember. I’m standing in a crib, hanging onto the top bar, and peering over it. I think my eyes were barely above the rail. I’m watching two blond children, a boy and a girl – small but much older than me, playing on the inside of a closed door that has a mail slot. They are bent over the mail slot, and have a rubber monkey toy. They are trying to stuff the monkey’s tail through the mail slot then push the slot down hard, to try and cut or break it.

Years later, I asked my mother about this. You see, I had a rubber monkey toy (I didn’t play with it, the jelly rubber texture bothered me and I hate monkeys) and it was missing half of it’s tail. She said that when I was a baby, maybe between nine months and a year old, we did live in an apartment that had a front door I would have been able to see from my crib. It did have a mail slot. She also confirmed that one of the neighbors had a little boy and girl that used to come to our apartment.

Second Memory…

My parents are arguing. I’m standing in the doorway to the bedroom but they don’t know I am there. My mother is sitting up in bed, I’m guessing she’d been watching TV but I don’t remember, and my father is threatening her. I’m afraid for her and want to go to her but also want to run and hide because I’m also so scared of the yelling so I’m just frozen in place, watching. He’s looming down over her and suddenly he punches the wooden dresser beside her head, hard enough that his fist goes into it. I don’t remember anything else.

This one was also confirmed by my mother later. I was about two or three at the time and he wanted to go out drinking and was threatening her for her welfare check money. The dresser was thin, cheap pressboard so punching a hole in it wasn’t that big of a feat, but I was so little and it really traumatized me. We still had that dresser years later, it ended up in my room, the fractured place taped back together inside, and I would find myself looking at that place and remembering. That was long before I asked my mother about it, she never knew I saw – or would have remembered, if I had, or I’m sure she would have gotten rid of it.

Side note: I had a pretty rough childhood.

This next one why this post is tagged ‘funny’ when it’s been anything but, so far.

Third Memory…

This one I barely, barely remember, but the story got re-told a lot in my family (it was considered a great source of amusement) so most of this is from what I picked up that way, I think. By the time I was three or so I’d become a shy little girl with long brown hair, bangs, and huge brown eyes that looked perpetually startled. At least, in pictures, they did. I look like a deer trapped in headlights in all of my early class photos. I don’t know if I started talking late, or was just very, very, quiet, but when I did talk it was at a fairly advanced level. My mother had me out with her somewhere, and there was some older man in a business suit who got down in front of me and said “well don’t you just have the prettiest brown eyes” to which I am told I replied, in perfectly clear speech “F**k off.” Apparently he thought he must have misheard, and asked me to repeat it. I obliged. What vague memory I have of the incident was that I didn’t like strangers, he was a stranger, and he got right inside my personal space bubble (even then I had one) and stared right into my eyes. As I mentioned, I had a rough childhood, and the language I was familiar with for getting someone to back off was exactly what I used.

Last One…

We went to a diner-type restaurant for breakfast one time when I was about the same age as in the above incident. We were very poor, and going out to eat wasn’t something we did regularly. Anyway, my mom took me downstairs to use the restroom – it was in the basement of the diner. Afterwards, she showed me how to hold my hands under the electric dryer… and hit the button to turn it on. Did I mention I’d never seen one, and that loud noises scared me? All I remember is blind panic, but I am told that the sound I emitted carried all the way upstairs and sounded like someone letting out one of those shrill whistles, where you blow through two fingers, except that it just kept going and going and going.

4 thoughts on “Wee Me

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  1. What a cool idea! Awesome energy-saving strategy. Thank you for sharing these 😊❤️


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