Minnie Mouse Called

To this day, I find midgets absolutely fascinating.  When I was in Kindergarten, midgets were an absolute phenomena for me.  I would have rather hung out at a midgets house than Disneyland. They were my size, but grown up and could do whatever they wanted, like drive, or not have to ask their parents' permission for anything.  When I met my friend Kelsey in tap-dancing class, I was in awe.  Kelsey was adopted, by none other than a midget.  I am not even sure if I liked Kelsey.  I know it was a fact, that I made it to every class because I needed to see how little her mom was still.  Eventually, her mother called my mom for a play date.  This was at the phase in my life I was learning to answer the phone and insisted on running from floor to floor, or room to room when the phone rang to make sure I had the opportunity to be the first on the line when the phone rang.  This specific time, I answered the phone out of breath from running through the house to get to the kitchen phone, "Hello?" I made sure to say in my most professional voice.

"HI Amanda! This is Kelsey's Mom.  Is your mom there?"  She said in her itty bitty little person voice.  I was so excited, I blew it.  I screamed without covering the receiver "MOM! MINNIE MOUSE IS ON THE PHONE!"

Curious George

I was really getting into reading books.  At the moment, Curious George and the Man in the Yellow Hat were at the top of my list.  

While my mother and I perused the isles of the grocery store talking about whatever a two year-old talks about. We pass a gentleman who is African American.  Upon seeing our fellow shopper, I immediately connect him with my newest, favorite book, point at him and exclaim with no restraint: 

"LOOK MOM!  IT'S CURIOUS GEORGE!"

The Cookie Monster

My mother was explaining the concept of nutrition to me while we were shopping at the grocery store.  While pointing out my favorite foods such as doughnuts and cookies, should be eaten only every once in awhile because they would make me unhealthy and eventually "fat."  I took note.  As any good student, I wanted to make sure my information was correct.  I pointed at the largest lady I could find in the grocery store, which happened to be directly in front of us in a long line to check out. I pointed and loudly exclaimed "OOOOOHHH MOM! LOOK! SHE ATE TOOOO MANY COOKIES!"

The Diaper Disaster

I was walking, but not quite out of diapers.  I was out of diapers by my second birthday, my mother said, so I was in that age range between walking and 2 years old. 

My mother brought me to the grocery store as usual.  Apparently, I was in an incredibly restless mood and refused to be in the cart while she shopped.   Figuring it was easier to appease me than fight me, she let me down with the stipulations I stayed where she could see me.  It wasn't long before I drifted out of her sights, just behind a greeting card rack.  I wiggled it struggling for balance.  She saw the motion and knew I was okay for at least another forty five seconds while she grabbed something off her list and went after me.  Safe, yes.  Out of trouble, no.  Seconds later she heard the ripping of tape off of plastic.  It was a familiar sound, but the recognition didn't click until she saw my little arm stretch from behind the greeting card rack with a dirty diaper in hand, and promptly drop the full prize in the isle. 

This was cause for emergency.  She picked up and ran my bare ass at arm's length, through the store, dodging all the horrified faces, through the diaper isle, then to the bathroom to continue the diaper change I started. 

Sorry Mom!

Busted Babysitter

I was about two, and left alone with a babysitter for the night.  My parents came home from their dinner, and find me naked, drawing with a multicolored crayon along the back of the white, fabric sofa like a little Jackson Pollock, creating a masterpiece.   After discovering the babysitter was asleep on the couch while I was decorating it, they politely asked her to leave. 

My parents asked me what we did that night.  I made sure to give them the lowdown of the night:

"Yes mom, we had fun. Tammy's boyfriend came over.  He was nice. We watched the Little Mermaid and they kissed.  Then he snuck out the backyard. Then we ate dinner and Tammy went to sleep."

That was the last time we saw that sitter. 

On the Road to Crazy: Pre Crazy Lady Chronicles

On the Road to Crazy:

To be fair, The Crazy Lady wasn't always so crazy. In fact, she was a completely loving, selfless, mother while my sister and I were going through the crucial development phase growing up.  She did all the same crazy things mothers do that we see as "damaging" such as make our hair just too adorable for our elementary school pictures, dress you up in matching outfits with your sibling, or announced that she "scrubbed your dirty, white thongs for you," in front of your boyfriend, when she meant to say "flip-flops"  Yeah, she is guilty, but that builds character and the beginning of a thick skin for the humiliation you will most likely put yourself through during that "awkward time" in Jr. High and High School.   After realizing how normal she use to be, it dawned on me that her crazy may not be completely her fault.  Apart of it just may fall on my own shoulders.   After raising my sister and I, she may have realized why in the wild mothers eat their young. 

My younger sister, "Header", and I are just under three years apart in age.  Neither of us were delinquents, but we had our moments where my mother wondered if we may grow up to be.

Heather:

Heather was an intense child, yet adorably oblivious to the real world.  She had a set of lungs that rivaled Whitney Houston's.  She was always uncomfortable when someone she wasn't familiar with held her. This always showed in her facial expression of disgust.  She had a bizarre sense of humor at a very young age and couldn't stand being the center of attention to any joke.  Heather always had a different way of seeing things and showed a conscience whether she liked it or not. Her facial expressions were a dead giveaway every time.  Heather was known for hiding things at the most inconvenient times. She renamed things because she never knew what they were supposed to be called.  The grocery store, was the "polka dot store" and if someone was making at joke at her expense, they were "making front of her." She use to wag her finger back and forth and make a weird noise that resembled "cah cung cah cung..." No one knows what that was all about till this day.  We worried she might be a little "special" Because she was such an uptight little person, she was absolutely hysterical to watch.

 Heather was particular about her clothes.  Boots were her footwear of choice. She wore her snow boots in the summer.  She loved anything with polka dots.  The seam in her socks and tights had to fit just right or she would scream "sideways!" and throw a fit with tears if they didn't feel right.  She hated anything around her neck, but insisted trying on necklaces and then ripping them off, like she did with my mother's wedding pearls.

ME:

The Crazy Lady and I use to hang out every day, just the two of us until Heather was born. I helped her grocery shop and run errands during the day. Sometimes we would play Barbie's or read books. It was a pretty normal routine. According to The Crazy Lady and various other family members, I thought I was an adult at the age of 2.  I listened intently to adult conversations and regurgitated the information I collected with my own conclusions at the most inappropriate times, embarrassing my mother to no end. I invited my parents friends to my Birthday parties instead of kids my age because kids my age were boring.  I talked to strangers like they were my best friends.  If there was a child parrot, I fit the bill, and Heather was not far behind in this category. There was nothing I saw that I couldn't report.   I observed the taboo and pointed it out candidly.  Up until a certain age, I could be hushed and explained by my mother when I let a secret slip out.  It became worse when I made my own connections and articulated my naive observations of unsuspecting people in public.  The Grocery store was notorious for being my favorite place to cause a ruckus.

My first report card reads "Amanda needs to learn to find the words" under "plays well with others."  I use to smack kids and take the toys, usually dress-ups, that I wanted.  I refused to learn math.  The Crazy Lady spent countless hours with flashcards trying to get me to remember basic equations.  I was impossible. Ignoring her, not trying, yelling, hiding the flashcards etc.

Heather and I were in a fight more often than not growing up.  Road trips were almost unbearable with the bickering and smacking in the back seat.  It was pretty typical sibling behavior, I suppose, but because The Crazy Lady stayed at home with my sister and I, she was constantly around it. That may be enough to drive anyone crazy. Fights happened daily. Heather would irritate me for attention, I would hit her, and she would scream. We fought over the front seat, who pushed the elevator button, who was in who's room, who did what to whom, tattling, the usual really.  Looking back on it, I don't know how she managed to deal with it and not strangle us.

This is a collection of stories before The Crazy Lady went crazy.  This is a tribute to the normal family that use to be.  This was the road to crazy.