Stranger Danger

  Image Source

Last week was my Mema's birthday and as per usual, Spencer, my mom, and I went to the cemetery to put flowers on her grave.  Because Spencer had ballet lessons that evening, we were meeting my mom there afterwards. En route to the cemetery, we're sitting at a stoplight when I glance up at the rear view mirror to see that Spencer is waving at someone and then she started saying "Hi, my name is Spencer."  I turn my head in that direction and see she is "conversing" with a middle aged Hispanic man in a construction van.  

I really hate stereotyping and it's something I find completely unacceptable in others, but in that moment, I thought the very worst about this middle aged construction worker man in his van.  Why was he trying to talk to my three year old daughter?  Why was he motioning for her to roll down the window?  Was he just being friendly to my overly gregarious daughter or was there something more sinister going on?  I plastered a smile on my face and through clenched teeth told Spencer not to talk to the man because he was a stranger. (This has to be the longest stoplight in the history of the world)  And that's when she said something that sent shivers down my spine:  "He's not a stranger, Mama, his face looks too happy to be a stranger!"

Maybe it was one too many episodes of Dateline, but when she told me that I about had a heart attack.  It was at this point the light changed and we drove off, only for this man to keeping driving beside us, all the while still waving to Spencer.  This went on for the next mile!  I'm pretty sure that's when my mom's uber-paranoiac voice entered my head and told me to keep driving straight, and not go towards my destination, until the van turned off the road we were on. (She's definitely seen one hundred Datelines too many)  So that's what I did and a few minutes later he turned.  Relief surged through my body.

I turned around and drove back towards the cemetery and I started replaying what had just happened.  A small part of me told myself that I had completely overreacted and another, larger, part was saying you can never be too careful.  I again tried to tell Spencer that we don't talk to strangers, only for her to keep telling me that "strangers aren't happy people and the man was such a happy person."

It can be difficult for a parent to admit they've made a serious parenting mistake.  I don't have any problem admitting that my parental skills are lacking in the eat-all-the food-on-your-plate, no running inside, sharp 8pm bedtime, and no jumping off the sofa departments.  It's easy to own up to those parental shortcomings because they're fairly insignificant in the big scheme of things.  No parent wants to think they've done, or not done, something that could result in real, actual harm to their child.  But in those few moments, I realized I had made one of those big huge mistakes and I needed to fix it, pronto.  I completely dropped the ball on teaching Spencer about Stranger Danger.

When I was a child, my mom was so totally, completely over the top about me and strangers.  On the extremely rare occasions that she'd let me out of her sight for more than a few seconds, she'd always make me repeat all of the Stranger Danger rules, plus a few of her own.  (and by child, I mean from ages 3-12!  Each year she'd add a few more.)  These were rules like don't trust someone who tells you they're a police officer if they don't have on a uniform, never tell a stranger your name or where you live, don't get in or go near a stranger's car, if someone grabs you and tells you not to say a word- start screaming "Help! Stranger!" as loudly as you can, never take candy, money or gifts from a stranger, and if a stranger asks for your help to find their lost dog, tell them no and then find the closest person you can trust. And I was always reminded that these were people who looked very nice, like they could be trusted.
 
We had code words for any potential situation that might require me to trust someone who was a stranger to me, ie., if a person I didn't know tried to pick me up from school because there was an emergency- that person had to know the right code word.  (This was in the day before schools had super strict rules about that.)  Before we would go out shopping, she'd always remind me that if we got separated, I should immediately find someone who worked at the store and if I couldn't find an employee, look for a mother with kids. 

Honestly, that's just the tip of the ice berg of my mom's safety rules.  From the ages of three to five, I was very scared of any person I didn't know and would tell anyone who tried to talk to me that I couldn't because they were a stranger- even those at my church.  After all, wasn't the danger in "nice" people?  I frequently had bad dreams about being taken away from my parents and I was always very nervous when one of them wasn't with me.  I guess the fact that I'm still here is some testament to her methodology, but at the time, it really bothered me.

Since I was never in a situation where I actually had to use any of the rules, aside from the two years of telling everyone they were a stranger, I don't know whether or not I would have in a situation that necessitated it.  I have a sneaking suspicion that I would done what she'd taught me if I felt threatened or afraid, but not if I hadn't.  After I started kindergarten, I realized that none of my friends had all of these rules and I started to think my mom was wrong.  She saw danger lurking on every corner, and as I got older, I saw the opposite.  I "yes Mom"ed everything she'd tell me, but I thought she was just being crazy over protective.

Somewhere along the line I decided that when the time came, I would do things differently when I had children.  All of those rules had just scared me and given me nightmares and I wasn't going to do that to my kid.  It's not that I haven't told Spencer about strangers, she knows she's not supposed to talk to them, I just haven't made it a real emphasis. Part of that is because I thought she was too young to really understand what it meant and part of it was that I didn't want her to be nervous and fearful the way I was, only to do a complete flop and become trusting of everyone.  I wanted to be able to teach her in a way that she'd always have a healthy respect for strangers. 

But this whole experience has taught me a lesson and it's that I can't be too careful where Spencer's safety is concerned.  I can't worry about her not being wary of strangers when she's seven because I made her too afraid of them when she was three.  Not that I now plan on making her overly fearful of strangers, but I can't let the possibility of that happening then, stop me from making sure she knows what to do to stay safe, now.  And one of the first lessons were doing is that a person can look happy, and have a happy face, but they are still a stranger.

I'd really love to know some of the different ways you all have taught your younger children about stranger safety.  Any ideas or suggestions for me?

You Have a Question, I Have an Answer and More

In honor of my 28th birthday: I give you a list of the most random 28 things about me that I've never written about before. Since I think I've blogged about most aspects of my life on here, making this list was really hard, I had to dig deep for some of them, ha! Ya'll know almost everything about me, hence the randomness of the list, but I think I managed to do it!

1. I am very claustrophobic. It started when I was on a ride at a theme park and when it was over, both my seat and shoulder harnesses wouldn't open. There was some "mechanical difficulty" and I couldn't get out. To make matters worse, in trying to free me, the ride operators accidentally pushed down on my shoulder hardness too hard- just enough to make it click down a notch and get stuck there, and it very hard for me to breath. The whole incident only lasted around five minutes, but it was long enough to make me forever claustrophobic.
2. Oddly enough, I still love all roller coasters and theme park rides, I'm not afraid to ride anything. But put me in a small elevator, or a large one with a lot of people, and I break out in a sweat- mentally preparing my escape route should something happen.
3. In high school and college I would always wear my glasses when I wanted to be taken seriously at things like Model UN Conferences, job interviews, meetings with professors, traffic court, and whenever I had to give a speech or presentation. (It worked like a charm)
4. I can do a very impressive British accent. During one Model UN conference, I pretended I was from England for four entire days! My team was the UK delegation and my accent ( coupled with an extensive background story, complete with British pop culture, common idioms, and slang) gave us a huge edge over the competition. I never dropped the accent, even when we were in the hotel room, because I didn't want to get out of the habit. And let me tell you, it was HARD to stop talking that way when the conference was over. I thought my friends and family were going to kill me.
5. I get very car sick driving in the mountains, but nowhere else. Well, unless the person driving is an accelerate-break kind of driver, and then I'm a mess.
6. I've never had stitches.
   
7. Although I did have staples for my c-section, but that's it.
8. I'm allergic to almost every antibiotic in existence. One very bad reaction when I was a kid landed me in the hospital on IV steroids. I have to be really, really sick for the doctors to prescribe me one because they don't want me to build up an immunity to the only ones I can take.
   
9. I love to drive. Long road trips all by myself, listening to my iPod, NPR, or an audio book is how I like it.
10. I can still walk on my hands across a room.
11. I had (have) my high school's record for the sit-n-reach. I can also put both legs behind my head.
12. During my teenage rebellious years I pierced my own ears when my parents wouldn't let me get a second earring hole. Once I saw how much I liked the second one, I got brave and did a third and fourth one in my left ear a few months later. I eventually let those close up, but I still have the second holes. And none of them ever became infected!
13. I was grounded for that incident for a LOOONG time.
14. I met James Brown on a trip to New York while eating dessert at the Plaza Hotel. He wore a gold lamé suit and was so nice, he even took pictures with us.
15. I don't like ice cream. I'll eat it on some things, but I never crave it. And when I do eat it, it's only vanilla.
16. I would love to live a small town, with twinkle lights on the trees, and little local shops you can walk to- where there's an actual community instead of suburban sprawl. Let me know if you know where one of these towns exists, please!
17. I love crossword puzzles but I hate sudoku,
18. I know all the of the US Presidents in the order of their terms. When I can't sleep I go through them all.
19. If that doesn't work I name the US states and their capitals by order of their entrance into the Union. Then I do it alphabetically.
20. After watching two of my grandparents suffer from Alzheimer's, I'm terrified of it happening to me. That's why I do many crossword puzzles and mental activities that exercises the brain.
21. My favorite one to do, and the most difficult, is to turn one hand clock-wise while also turning the opposite foot counter-clockwise. So right hand turns right and left foot turns left- and then you switch them. It took me awhile to be able to do it!
22. I am a firm believer in high thread count sheets. They are a little costly, but they last forever and get better with age. I never buy anything less than 500, but I prefer 800. It's the one real luxury I allow myself these days.
23. I didn't have curly hair until I was around 8 or 9 years old. Before that it was stick straight and would NOT even hold a curl. I could sleep in rollers all night long (which I did many times) with loads of hair spray, and within two hours it would be straight again. Then it just changed, becoming a frizzy mess first, then wavy-ish, and finally curly.
24. And then after all those years of wanting naturally curly hair, it happened; which of course meant I wanted straight hair again. I shudder to think of all the money and hours I spent over the years on straightening products and hair straightners- trying to tame my super thick, very stubborn hair into submission, before finally embracing the curls.
25. I've gotten 3 speeding tickets, the last of which was my senior year of college.
    
26. But I've never successfully been convicted of speeding. I appealed my way out of one and for the other two I found legal technicalities to argue my way out it. For one of them I requested the police officer's radar calibration records and it turned out he hadn't calibrated it at the beginning of his shift. I probably wouldn't have gone to such great lengths if it weren't for the fact that my mom said she'd take me off of their car insurance if I ever got a speeding ticket on my record.
27. I have never found a four leaf clover.
28. And finally... When I first watched The Wizard of Oz (age 4) I became terrified of becoming a "dwarve," ( a dwarf, or little person) as I called it. I thought I would stop growing and be like the Munchkins. For at least a year, every night, I'd make my mom promise me that I wouldn't stop growing , that I wouldn't be like the Munchkins.

Whew, I am tired- if you made it through that list I'm pretty impressed. I've been thinking about doing a question and answer post for a long time now. So if this lengthy list of Katie Randomness didn't answer your question for/about me, please ask in the comments! I'll answer all your questions in a post later on this week. Since there are some things I just don't write about on this blog, if I don't feel comfortable with a public answer, I'll send it to you in an email. So feel free to ask all those questions you've been wanting to know :)

Show Us Your Life - School Spirit and Sporting Traditions

I think this is going to be a very interesting Show Us Your Life, since it's about our favorite sports teams, traditions, and anything else involving our school spirit - I'm interested to see what everyone says! It would seem obvious that William & Mary is my favorite, but that wouldn't be right. I'm sure it's obvious by now that I LOVE W&M and fully plan on Spencer continuing the legacy, but we're not the most athletic bunch. (Except this year, the Tribe is doing amazingly well!)


Don't get me wrong, when the Tribe plays, I'm always rootin' for them, but sports just wasn't our thing. We only had tailgates on select game days and they were very limited by the lack of available space. I didn't even go to one until two years after I graduated! How crazy!

Tribe Pride Hip Hop Style

So even though I have endless amounts of Tribe Pride, I'm really a UNC and ACC girl at heart- I've written about it before. That might seem strange too, seeing as I'm a born and bred Virginian, but it's not! My Papa was from that area and he was a huge Carolina fan as were his 11 brothers and sisters. Oh, maybe I should just preface that he was a GREAT basketball player. But in December of his senior year of high school the US officially entered WWII and he enlisted in the Navy- patriotism beat out basketball and college.


Okay, so back to UNC- my whole southern half of the family loves the Tarheels. It was a point of pride for my Papa that my mom (his only child) could always name the entire starting line up and second string every season. When I heard this I just HAD to beat my mom, so I went about memorizing every single player and their positions! My Papa laughed when I recited all of the stats to him, he thought his brothers would get a real kick out it - his only grandchild, a granddaughter, (my brother wasn't born then) knowing more about UNC basketball than all of their gazillion grandsons combined. I was a cheerleader for most of my life, cheering at varsity basketball games when I was a freshman and every other type of basketball game there was- up to 5 games a week sometimes! I learned more about "the game" in those years then you could imagine. Now I don't make myself memorize their stats, but I still always know the starting lineup and second string.


But for our family, it's not just UNC pride, it's also ACC loyalty that's important. Even though I can't stand Duke, I still root for them when they play a non-conference team. And if both teams playing aren't in the ACC, then Papa would say to support the team closest and most southern in geographical proximity, haha!



The only other "odd" caveat in our rules system is state versus private- and public schools trump private schools. Papa would say that's because the state schools represented "our people," and it was the "Yankee rich folk" who started private schools and now they were trying to do the same in the South! (Sorry to offend you Northerners! But my dad is from NJ AND went to private schools and my Papa Loved him- it's just how many people in the south tended to think back then) And while I don't exactly agree with how he arrived at his conclusion, I still agree with it, because I think private schools undermine state programs. But I'm just a fan of public education, so maybe that's clouding my opinion, haha.


So that's the heirarchy of how I go about basketball season. It's the same rules for football, but I just don't like that sport very much, so I don't have the same passion for it as I do basketball. And that's how my family does sports! Sometimes it can be hard to follow all the rules, especially when something crazy happens, like Boston College becoming part of the ACC, but I still did/do it. It's almost like a weird code/badge of honor- because above all else, we're "loyal people." (As my Papa would say!)

**More Show You How I Live Posts**

Baby Gear Favorite Dessert Recipes
Favorite Go-To Dinner Recipe
My Baby Shower
School Pictures
Favorite Vacation Spot
I Have a Child. The Jig is Up.
Here Comes the Maid Of Honor

When I Grow Up

That's how I still think in my head, "when I grow up I want to be a ..." and then I realize I am grown up. But even that doesn't really deter me, I like to think about what I would want to do if I could do anything I wanted. If there was nothing holding me back, money was not an issue, and I already possessed the ability/education/talent requirements - what would I do?

When I was three years old I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up- a Fire Fighter, a McDonald's worker, and Strawberry Shortcake. In the bliss that is youth, these seemed like the best jobs in the world, I mean, what could be better than getting to slide down a pole everyday, playing with a hose that shoots out geysers of water AND having a cute spotted dog that would be my best friend? Nothing except working at McDonald's, where I could eat chicken nuggets dipped in honey whenever I wanted and then go to play in the huge ball pit. Of course I was going to do all of this while also being Strawberry Shortcake.

As I got older people would always say to me "I bet you want to grow up and be a famous doctor just like your Dad!" And oh how I did. I wanted to be a neonatologist until I got to high school. By then I realized that science wasn't exactly my strong suit and I loved history and government classes. I never stopped wanting to be a doctor, I just began thinking about doing something different. Even after I applied and had gotten into William and Mary, I was fully planning on majoring in both Government and Biology, that way I could postpone having to make the rest of my life decision for four more years.

Then came that first Bio class... lets just say it left me irrevocably scarred and I never looked back, I was going to be lawyer and that was it. Except it didn't work out like I had thought it would, but I'm fine with that. Even now, that's not what I would want to do if I could do it.
There are so many things I would love to do, it would take multiple lifetimes to accomplish half of them. And they're always changing, well they rotate in importance. So here's my number one, if I could be anything I wanted to be, job. Don't laugh at me!

Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services. Health care reform is something that's very important to me. I'm not saying I agree with or want a national federally run health care program. But so many people are up in arms about not wanting their health care to be regulated, but it already is, it's regulated by insurance companies.

When I got pregnant with Spencer I had the best health insurance available- there were no better policies/plans than the one I had. And I was denied coverage for anything related to my or Spencer's prenatal health. Every single doctor's appointment I went to, I had to pay $500. And here's the real kicker, I was also ineligible for Medicaid and FAMIS because I had health insurance! Even before the astronomical hospital bill covering our 5 nights plus emergency surgery, I had already payed close to $7,000 in medical bills, and those were just routine checkups. Can you even imagine how much it would have cost if there had been any kind of complication?

And once again, I'm not trying to make a partisan statement here, but something needs to be done. Of course I don't have all the answers now, although I'm pretty sure I do (haha). But as the Secretary of DHSS, I would know EVERYTHING and everyone would listen to me and all would be right with the world.

Fantasy Land, how I love thee.

So what would you do, who would you be if could do anything?

Back in the Day

This would be me, circa 1996- please note the outdated scrunchie (outdated even for 1996) in my hair. I'm about 60% sure this picture was taken during cheerleading/gymnastics camp in Charlotte, NC. There's a 40% in could have been at the University of North Carolina. Either way, it was 1996 in North Carolina.

I used to cheer for Hilda McDaniel, the founder of All-Star Cheering; that means we only competed, we didn't "root" for anyone but ourselves.. To say the pressure was intense would be a huge understatement! I really loved it for awhile, and I was good at it. I won the All-American Cheerleading award in 1997, which is the most prestigious award in cheerleading (weird, I know). I had to try out for All-American status, in front of gazillions of people, being judged on technique, jumps, tumbling, spirit and overall crowd appeal.

I was only 15 then, but I'd already started to grow tired of it. I can't adequately describe the pressure and give it justice, because it seems so silly now. Even now, years after my cheerleading "career" ended, I have frequent dreams where I'm in the middle of a competition and I can't do a back-flip anymore. There are different variations on this dream- I can't do a twist, layout, handspring, or I forgot the routine.

I eventually decided that I had to stop cheering for either my high school squad or my All-Star squad. I ended up choosing to stay with high school because I felt there was nothing left I wanted/needed to accomplish in the AS world. And I didn't love it anymore, and you really need to love something if you're going to sink 10-15 hours a week in it (that didn't even count on my high school practices and games, or gymnastic classes/practices). I also really wanted to do show choir and there was no way I could do all of them. (Did anyone watch GLEE last night?)


Most people who know me in real life ALWAYS ask me if Spencer is going to be a cheerleader. My immediate, gut response is always an emphatic "No!" But I don't really mean that, Spencer can do whatever she wants. It's just me, being selfish, not wanting to be immersed in those thoughts and feelings again.

The next question people ask me is why I didn't cheer in college. There are two reasons: the first being I severely dislocated my shoulder and tore my rotator cuff at a pep rally my junior year. That ended any possibility of cheering for a big school. I never planned on that, I always wanted to go to W&;M, but you never know. There were a lot of times when I wondered if I should go to a big school and cheer- what else had I been working towards all these years? For most cheerleaders, that's the ultimate dream, and there I was turning my nose up at it. So when I hurt my shoulder, I really felt that it was a sign from the cosmos. The second reason, and not to put down W&M in any way- because I LOVE that school, but my middle school squad was better than theirs. (And no offense to the cheering squad there, either!  There were definitely some great cheerleaders, they were just not in the majority)

That is the story of my cheer history! I used to omit my cheer history whenever I met someone new, mostly because people always assumed it meant I was a dumb, snobby slut. But that makes me mad at myself, I should be proud that there was a time in my life when I was really really good at something! (even if it was cheerleading!) Now this isn't a video of us, I only have VHS tapes so I can't upload it, but just so you have an idea of the level of competition, here is a video of Hilda's current team, Cheer Factory.

You Are Who You Love

When I was three years old, I was in love with my babysitter's 25 year old son. I wanted to marry him and I was quite jealous of his finance. For some reason, they liked me and I was invited to their wedding. I can still remember it- my embarrassed dad carrying me out of the church, while the ceremony was in progress, as I kicked and screamed and wailed that I didn't want him to get married! I shudder at this memory, luckily, years later, the happy couple like to tell it as one of their "funny wedding stories," of which I am the highlight/punchline.

It seems that this was a foreboding omen of the boys/men I would come to like in the future- The Unattainable One. Okay, now I realize that celebrity crushes are completely unrealistic and fantastical, but even most of my celebrity crushes were the bad boys. It all started with Uncle Jesse.

Uncle Jesse was the first poster of a male that I had hanging in my bedroom. Please note, it was Uncle Jesse, not John Stamos! And when he'd play his bongs- pitter patter went my heart!



Next came Jordan Knight from New Kids on the Block. He wasn't the bad one of the group, but all of my friends loved Joey McEntire. (This was when we were 8-10yrs old) My first concert was actually the New Kids, with Tiffany as their opener. We were like 2 rows from the top of the stadium, so I had to watch the whole thing on the jumbo tron, but it was one of the most exhilarating moments of my first eight years on Earth!

I first saw Gone With the Wind when I was in the 3rd grade and became immediately infatuated with the great Rhett Butler. I even made my mom buy the book- which took me about 2 months to finish. I still remember how crestfallen I was when I realized that Rhett Butler wasn't real and Clark Gable was dead. But he was so passionate, and he bought Bonny Blue a pony, and I loved that.

Now we get to my first real lusty crush- Chris O'Donnell. I fell in lust with him during Mad Love and even more so after Circle of Friends. I still have this huge (5ft x 3ft) Mad Love movie poster that I got for my 14th Birthday from some equally infatuated friends! No, it's no longer hanging up. Most of my tweeny crushes now cause me mild embarrasment, (like Scott Baio) but not Chris. He was on NCIS the other night and he is still foxy.

I was never a Leonardo DiCaprio fan, but I really loved Romeo & Juliet; hence, my temporary crush on Romeo Montague, as played by Leo DiCaprio. He looked really good in that movie, way better than in Titanic! (at least I think so.)

Jordan Catalano. Made my heart swoon with all of his bad boy, emotionally stunted-ness; Jared Leto, not so much. I have probably watched the Boiler Room episode of MSCL like 30 times. One of my first realizations that it seemed possible that the good girl could tame the wild boy. That she was so great he would change his crazy ways for her. Please note, this is an Urban Legend.

What about the rest of you? Who were you're crushes in during your pre-teen, teen years? Any really embarrassing ones?

May Day

Sometime I forget what I've written on here and I have to do a search on my own blog! Does anyone else ever have to do that? I've started noticing that there are some really big things that I've never written about and then inane facts that I've devoted two or three posts to- weird.

Getting to the point now, when I was eight years old, we moved from Richmond, VA to Rochester, MN. My dad was accepted as a year long Fellow at the Mayo Clinic (he got to meet Ronald Reagan when he had his famous brain surgery there). After completion of the program he would then be a practicing neurologist. My parents decided since it was only a year, and separation of the family wasn't an option, to rent our house out to a family member while we moved to Minnesota.

It wasn't one of those sad and tragic moves, because I knew all along we would be coming back to the same town and the same house, but it was the first time I had ever been away from my MeMa and PaPa, so I was a little down in the dumps. I loved living in Minnesota and it's one of the happiest times of my life. It was so different than Virginia, and not just the weather. It was flat as could be, where Virginia was very hilly, there were sidewalks everywhere, a park right across the street from my house, and it stayed light out until 10pm (in the summer). Fun Fact: Rochester has 100 parks in 40 sq/miles- roughly 3.1 parks per sq/mile!

Minnesota was also very different socio-politically speaking as well. They were light years ahead of Virginia in terms of environmental preservation. It was also the first time I learned that not everyone voted for George Bush, the first one. There were also many more programs for children, like cooking, sewing, arts and crafts, jewelry making, music, eco-adventures, and theater. It was just much more of a communal, out doorsy place- kids only stayed inside and at home if they were sick.

Me. The Mississippi. Minnesota.

They were also very celebratory of holidays that had nothing to do with Christianity- like Halloween, the Winter Solstice, Earth Day, and May Day. Of course I had heard of May Day, it was the first of May, and to some semi-strict southerners- the first day you are allowed to wear the color white from the waist down.** But in Minnesota they made a very big deal about it, learning all the history and lore of it (the 2nd grade version) during school. The fun part came next!

Old timey celebration of May Day!

I had just gotten home from school, and during the next hour our door bell was rung about 10-15 times. Each time I went to answer the door no one would be there, but on the stoop would be a present! Some were little flowers in cups, baked goods, candy, and baskets filled with fun things like ribbons, flower seeds, and pretty garden rocks. It was so exciting and something that we just didn't do in Virginia.

An example of one that is cute and simple. But they can be very elaborate and ornate as well.

Of course I wanted to participate in this fun activity of leaving presents on my neighbors porches, ringing the doorbell, and then running to hide! It seemed that half the fun was in not getting caught, which happened when spying little eyes would peek out of the curtains to wait for the next goody bag. Unfortunately for me, my mom and I weren't at all prepared for this, and we didn't have any of the typical "gifts" that people gave on May Day.

I was not about to let this deter me, and I went about making gifts and putting them in brown paper lunch bags. I could see the look of slight horror on my mom's face, as she watched me put things like dandelions, left over Easter candy, rocks from underneath the deck, pens, pencils, and balloons into my bags. But she didn't say anything as I created the worlds most ugly and useless hodgepodge (if that) May Day gift bags.

I didn't have a lot of time to collect my treasures and assemble them, but I worked quickly and soon had 7 bags. I then ran out of the house, skulking down the sidewalk so that I could "drop and dash" my presents without getting caught. Unfortunately, when I started, most kids were finishing up and they were already gathered outside showing off and playing with their new treats. It was then that I learned that my bags were not up to snuff, when I got caught by my best friend and she was like "um, thanks?"

I decided my bags were just too special to be given out to my friends, they didn't "get them." So I went about putting them on the stoops of the older neighbors (the ones who I thought probably didn't get any baskets and the ones who had no children. This proved to be A LOT harder than I thought, everyone except two couples on my street (that's where I was allowed to go) had kids that I knew.

Now I guess you'd have to be in my brain to understand why I did what I did next. Can you guess?

Yes, I left multiple, ugly, brown paper May Day bags filled with junk on their doorsteps. But it gets worse! I know what you're thinking "how could that possibly be?" In my infinite, eight year old wisdom, I decided that I would ring the door bell after I put each individual bag on their porch,

s-t-r-e-e-e-e-t-c-h-i-n-g

out their fun! I didn't even go back and forth between the two houses to space it out. I put one bag on the stairs, rang the bell, and then hid by the side of the house. When the elderly lady toddled to the door and picked up her treats, I would wait about 30 more seconds after she shut the door before I left another one and rang the bell all over again.

I did this three times.
To two different houses.

Looking back I know they were probably thinking it was some teenager pranking them by leaving them crap and then ringing their doorbell over and over again. I didn't even try to disguise the fact that all of them were from me! When I think about it, even today, my face turns a lovely crimson color. But on May 1, 1990, I was completely oblivious to any embarrassment, and I thought it was the greatest day!

The following May, when we were back in Virginia, I tried telling all of my friends about making baskets and leaving them on doorsteps for your neighbors, but they all thought I was crazy. I didn't care, I was prepared, and I made fairly cute (for a 9yr old) bags. I only made a few because my mom didn't think people would get it here in VA. And she was correct.

After leaving my first basket on my neighbor's porch, I ran back home to get the next one. In that one minute interval, the neighbor had already telephoned my mom, asking her if I was the rude kid who rang her door bell and left. My mother told her that I was, but I had left something for her on her stoop, which she apparently hadn't seen. Well, that didn't matter to her, it was very rude and disrespectful to ring a door bell and then run away.

After a quick, but futile, attempt to explain May Day to my neighbor, I ended up apologizing and that put an end to my celebration. SAD.

But I never forgot that May Day and I think about it each time the calendar rolls around to the end of April. I also still get really mad when I think about my mean neighbor who killed my dreams of bringing May Baskets to Richmond, Virginia (as I phrased it when I was nine). 

Ahh, youth.

So do any of you celebrate the first of May with goody bags for neighbors or did when you were a child? I think it's such a nice festivity that doesn't get a lot of attention. Maybe that will be my next (really first) entrepreneurial move, making and selling May Baskets for the world! (I'm only have kidding)


**Not strict on wearing white from the waist down- Easter, semi-strict- May Day, very strict- Memorial Day. But there's a hard line drawn in the sand that white ends on Labor Day. "Winter White" is not allowed by the very strict at all, only during the Holiday season for the semi-strict, and from the day after Thanksgiving until the end of February for the not strict.

The List

I was going through some of my old college disks yesterday, trying to put the data on CD's, when I stumbled on the funniest thing. It was a list I made throughout all four years of school, called "My Perfect Man." Every time I thought of something I liked, or didn't like, I would add it to my list. There is an obvious progression in taste and maturity, but some of things I wrote down were just laugh out loud funny.


I'm going to post a few of them today, maybe more tomorrow, if I can ever get over the embarrassment of having actually thought that was what I wanted in a man or having actually thought that one might do some of those things.

• Lets me watch Felicity, even when it conflicts with a sporting event (obviously the days before DVRs)
• Will buy me tampons without griping
• Does NOT wear seersucker or linen, unless we are super rich and in the Hamptons, or pop his collar when wearing polo shirts
• Does NOT wear saggy pants with exposed underwear
  
• Enjoys a good debate/argument without getting nasty
• Mows the lawn
• Doesn't expect his son be a Jr., because that's never going to happen
  
• Cries at appropriate times, but isn't a cry baby
• Plays the guitar or another comparable instrument
  
• Does NOT hit on my friends

The sad thing about my list, is that these are the least embarrassing things I wanted in a guy! The majority of my likes and dislikes came from things I had experienced with past boyfriends. If they did something I liked, I put it on the list as something I wanted in the future. After we'd end things, I think of everything I didn't like and put it on the list.


At the top I wrote "Any potential mate must be in compliance with at least 70%." Let me just say, if any man could ever meet this 70% requirement, he'd have to be genetically engineered- or a robot! What's even more comical, is that I never, not even once, used this list as some sort of guideline in my dating choices. It just made me feel better to know that "one day" I would have high standards.


What are some embarrassing things you used to think you wanted in a potential life partner? Are any of them as ridiculous or as shallow as the things on my list? Youth is such a funny thing!

Life Categories

It always intrigues me as to how people categorize their lives. It seems that most people use one or two ways to define a certain period of time- my aunt does it with her cars. If you ask her about a certain period of time, she will say something like "well, I was driving the white Honda then, so that was May of '95."

I am entirely different. Depending on my mood, or when you ask me, or what your asking me about, I use all different categories and phases. There's the obvious, before and after Spencer, but that's so recent to me, there are still 25 years before that, that need some sort of organization.

After Spencer, there is before and after my MeMa died. She passed away during my first week of law school, completely unexpectedly. It's a day I would love to forget, but every second of it is etched into my brain. We were waiting for her at church on Sunday and she was late; my Mema was never late. My mom was worried and we sat outside of church waiting for her to drive up. My Dad drove over to her house and when she didn't answer the door, he broke in and found her in her bedroom. She had died the night before of a massive heart attack, all alone, except for her dog Gus.

Gus, the dog we inherited.

My Mema was a huge part of my life, she had lived in the house behind us for my entire childhood. When she died, I felt like my world had shifted. She had the personality most like me and I was the only person who she let tell her what to do. I would have to say that her death had the biggest impact on my life, except for Spencer, and I tend to automatically put things in the "before or after" she died.

Next on the list is what perfume I was wearing. Weird, huh? I'm one of those people who wears a scent for a certain period of time and then retires it. I wore CK One for all of the 8th and 9th grade, after that it was Curve, then Glow, l'eau par kenzo, Light Blue, and finally Coco Mademoiselle. Whenever I smell one of these fragrances, I immediately go back to that period of my life. Right off the top of my head, I know that I wore Light Blue during Italy and for my Junior year of College.

After the perfume category, it's on to coats. I tend to do the same thing with coats that I do with perfume, I wear one for a certain period of time and then I retire it to the salvation army. The red faux fur coat, I wore for three years in a row in college- it was like my signature item. These are all the coats I've worn (there are more, I just couldn't find any pictures of them).

There are few other, like before and after my first dog Dusty died. I got her for my 5th birthday and she died the day after I got back from my mission trip to Peru. She was sick when I left and I was so scared that she was going to die while I was gone, but she waited for me! Dusty was the sweetest dog, and I had for 13 years, so I sometimes use my sweet puppy as a defining category.

Sometimes I think about things in terms of when I had faith that "could move mountains," and then when it became smaller than the requisite "mustard seed." When I was a "good girl" and then when I wasn't. I use this mostly when I'm trying to make a decision or answer a life question, like what would "the good Katie" have done? Why don't I want to do that? Was that version of me the real one or is this the real me? Was she wrong or am I right?

But for the most part, I tend to stick with lighter fare of coats and perfume to help sort out and define periods of my life. I don't know why, I didn't plan on making such a method, but it happened.

So how do you sort out and categorize your life? Is there just one way, or do you use many, like me? Are any of them as ridiculous as coats or perfume? Yes, I know they are ridiculous!

Aging, Via the Hot Guy Down the Street

My parents have lived in the same neighborhood since I was 10 years old. It was the kind of neighborhood everyone wanted to live in; a pool, playground, tennis courts, and games of flashlight tag during the summer. One of our favorite things to do as we got older was boy hunt. I think I was around 12 when one of my best friends told me she had seen the "hottest hunk ever" outside of the house that was down the street.

12 years old- the way I remember it

I wasn't sure if I believed her, this was the same girl who convinced me that oral sex was a type of kissing, which I believed for quite an embarrassingly long while. (I had a Godly mother, and asking her was NOT an option) She was adamant though, he was the hottest guy she had ever seen, besides Charlie Sheen, who she had met once and was madly in love with him. The topic was forgotten until a few months later when another friend of ours confirmed that there was "a super hot dude" living in that house. She said he was in college, her older sister knew him

Over the next couple of years, before I was driving, I would hope to catch a glimpse of this boy/man, but I never did. His car would be parked outside, but he remained my elusive girlish crush. I forgot about him as I got older, but because I had made a point to see if he was outside each time I passed his house, it became second nature. I wouldn't even think about it, but when ever I'd drive by, I would always slow down and do a quick inspection.

Today, as I was driving, something caught my eye, something raking leaves in a blue windbreaker.

Could this be it?

The moment I have been waiting for since I was 12 years old?

I slowed down to an embarrassingly slow crawl, and as I drove by he looked up and waved!

WAVED! At me!


As I waved back, trying to take in the moment, something seemed "off."

Yes, the person who waved at me was indeed, a "super hot dude." But he was OLD! All these years I had been waiting to see the hot college freshman, it never really occurred to me that he would become a middle-aged man.

Don't get me wrong, this man was definitely handsome. He looks like the kind of guy who could pull a MacGyver with a q-tip and string. But, he was not the young stud I had envisioned all these years.

In my mind, there are some things that don't age. If I imagine playing flashlight tag, we are all 12 years old again. Even though I still know, and see, those people regularly, I always picture us as kids growing up together.

I'm 27 years old, no spring chicken, but it still surprised me that the "hunk" was obviously in his mid to late 30's; a MAN! All these years I had failed to notice when his parents moved out, or when parties stopped happening there, or when the swing set was put up. He was an adult and so was I.

Has anything like that ever happened to you? Where something completely minute in the grand scheme of things turns out to be a giant spotlight?

A Santa Story

 

Image Source

I am one of those unfortunate, but fortunate, souls who believed in Santa Claus entirely too long. I'm almost too embarrassed to say how long, but here goes... I was 10! Ten years old and I still thought a large fat man traveled all around the world delivering toys to each house as his flying reindeer assisted him in his journey. What's even harder to believe about this is that I knew there was no Easter Bunny, Leprechaun, or Tooth Fairy.

Looking back at that last Christmas I believed in Santa, I think I really knew he wasn't real, but I was deluding myself. I so badly wanted there to be a real Santa that I wouldn't even entertain the idea of him being my parents. A lot of my friends said there was no Santa, but I knew if you didn't really believe he wouldn't stop by your house. Hello, Polar Express! What was wrong with all of my friends? Once you stopped believing, there was no way Santa could work his magic on you.

In order to keep believing in My Main Man, I went about concocting rationales to explain how Santa, could in be real. Now I was a pretty smart kid, not to toot my own horn, but I was. In the 1st and 2nd grades, I was often pulled out of class to go help the kindergartners learn how to read. I taught myself, with a little parental help, to read very early in life. The school thought that some of the students with learning problems could benefit from another kid showing them how they (me)read. So that's what I did, I gave away all my reading tips and got out of class in the process. Okay, so that tangent was meant to show you that I was smart, so when you read what I'm about to write you won't dismiss it as the crazy talk of a really not-smart little kid.

My Rationales

1. Why do some children get more presents than others, especially if the worse kid gets more than the good one? The government, duh! Part of a parent's taxes were sent to the North Pole for their kid's Christmas presents. The more money you paid in taxes, the more gifts you received.
2. Why were some gifts already at home, hidden in the basement? Santa had his helpers deliver all the really large presents before Christmas Eve because they wouldn't fit down the chimney. They would also weigh his sleigh down and he wouldn't be able to fly fast enough to deliver all the toys.
3. Why were there so many Santas at the malls with fake beards? These were relatives of Santa, members of the extended Claus family who take the requests of the kids and give them directly to the big man himself.
   
4. Why were my parents always up so early on Christmas morning fiddling with my gifts (I could hear them)? Santa doesn't have time to arrange all the gifts under the tree, he just comes down the chimney and puts the bag of gifts under the tree, the parentals must them display them accordingly.
5. Why do some kids have their presents wrapped and others do not? On the tax return form, there's a box you could check if you wanted your gifts wrapped, of course it would cost more money, meaning less gifts. This is why my presents were never wrapped.
6. How could Santa possibly deliver presents to all the children, all over the world, in just one night? The different time zones helped, but on Christmas Eve, and that day only, Santa was able to slow down time. Like Superman flying around the world to save Lois Lane. This was why time seemed to stand still on Christmas Eve, why the clock took 20 minutes to go from 1:01am to 1:02am- Santa, with a little help from God, slowed time.

Using these rationales, I was able to logically explain how Santa accomplished his mission. My parents didn't make these up either, they're my own! When I would ask them if they were right, if their taxes helped pay for my gifts, they'd say "well if that's what you think." I guess at that point they didn't want to outright lie to me, but still wanted me to have that bit of magic that comes with believing in Santa.

I don't know about you, but Christmas hasn't been the same since I finally accepted the truth about Santa. I'd rather sleep a little longer than wake up at the crack of dawn to see my gifts (I always spend Christmas Eve at my parents house). No matter how much I decorate or listen to the Christmas music radio station, I just don't have that feeling anymore. Anyone else feel the same way, or have you discovered a way to recapture the former Santa Claus induced euphoria? If so, tell me, I want to know what it is so I can try it. And no, I will not wear a sweater with a sequined Santa on it.

My Ex Boyfriend is Getting Married

“I always thought that if he could get it together, grow up, maybe we do it. Maybe we could really be a family, in a stupid traditional Dan-Quayle-golden-retriever-grow-old-together wear-matching-jogging-suits kind of way. And then he did get it together. He became that guy. And he gets to be that guy with her.”

—Lorelai Gilmore, Gilmore Girls - Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days :