Childhood memories

Periodically I have flashbacks of my childhood. I remember one time in particular something didn't go my way. I think I was around 6-9, can't quite remember. It was me, mom and Mark at home and whatever it was that didn't sit well with me, was NOT in my plan (however minor it might have been). So, the only solution to my unhappiness was to pull out the drama and kick it up a notch or two, compared to my normal drama.

I proceeded to wail the best fake cry I could muster, trying desperately to produce a tear or two, dragging it out even after something had distracted me for a second. I would quickly re-compose myself and remembered the goal of proving that this not-my-way stuff is for the birds and everybody else would just be better off if I got my way. I think my mom was busy with something else, like being a mom, and she wasn't there to shush me up so I continued. Wailing, fake-crying, falling to the ground, minor foot-stomping etc.

Since I was getting no attention, I threw myself on the bed, face down and proceeded to wail even louder. (If it weren't for my paralyzing fear of the stage, I'm sure I could have been a GREAT actress.) My arm was folded up underneath my face and I remember concentrating on making the crying sound genuine and heartbreaking so I could force misery upon my perpetrator. Hours went by, well, it felt like hours. Minutes went by while I perfected the best crying scene I could generate and

WHAM!

Out of the blue, a hand smacked my rear-end, I was so proudly sticking up in the air (part of the staging I was working on). And quickly the proclamation followed: "There. That'll give you something to cry about."

Oh my heavens! The wailing continued, but this time with more gusto and heart to back it up; because of pain. My mother, who no-doubtedly had heard enough of my practicing-for-Broadway antics, gave me a real reason to cry. But this time it didn't last as long for fear of receiving another reason to cry.

I learned a big lesson that day: When pulling out all the acting stops, don't leave your rear-end exposed.

Enter: Katherine not wanting to take a nap. Need I say more? She didn't get her way today while I was feeding Nathan his bottle and she decided to pull out all the stops. There was no Wham-ing. Just calmly reading some books as a distraction, but I got so tickled remembering my childhood. Speaking of childhood memories, the story about the movie Annie and singing the song "Tomorrow" is at the bottom.

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Today, Katherine's bestest bud AC came over to play for a little bit. I thought it would be a great opportunity to bake some cookies I've had sitting in the box on the counter for about a month. The cutie-patooties put on their aprons and stood on chairs next to the counter.
They combined the pre-measured ingredients, mixed it up and placed dollops of dough on the cookie sheet. We talked about what a recipe is, how the cookies change when they're baking and had a taste test after they cooled.
Conclusion: Even boxed cookies don't like me. I'm convinced the culinary Gods are upset with me and have placed a 'hit' on me.

Thanks to some wise intervention and experience-talk from AC's mom, it maybe had something to do with the cooking stone, humidity, the fact that they came in a box and just plain wrong cooking times on the instructions. I'm going with that because I'm sure it had nothing to do with me and my abilities.

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Annie (Soundtrack)

Another treasured memory of mine was when the movie Annie came out. My favorite part of the movie: when Annie sang, "Tomorrow."

So, I'm in our back yard, where we had 5 acres separating us from neighbors, at 7 years old singing "Tomorrow" at the top of my lungs, trying very hard to hit each note on pitch and remember the words. I sang it all the time and there was probably some dancing/choreography included.

What my parents heard was a non-stop bad version of the soundtrack to Annie stuck on one song. What they saw was a little girl dancing around, oblivious to the rest of the world, singing her heart out.

What my parents didn't know was that I was convinced that if I sang good enough and loud enough our neighbors, who were 5 acres away, just might have a talent scout at their house. And that talent scout would hear the melodic voice of the next Annie-on-Broadway-replacement singing her heart out and he would ask that little girl and her parents if she would be interested in, gasp even better, being in the movies!

Don't laugh, it is soooo do-able in a 7-year-old's mind and that's exactly what I thought. I eventually got tired of singing the song over and over again and moved on to wanting to be a gold-medal gymnast like Mary Lu Retton.