Friday Flashback - Cheater?

(This post was written a few months ago...)

In fifth grade there was a reading contest and I was blowing people out of the water apparently.  One day, Mrs. McCormick pulled me into the closet that adjoined two classrooms and asked if I was cheating on the competition.  I, of course, had not been cheating, and told her, 'no.'

I then explained that I just read really fast, we weren't allowed to watch very much Television at our house, and sometimes I would sneak books to bed and read under the blankets with a flashlight. 

Basically the same thing happened again in sixth grade. 

Remember, if I had a super power it would be speed reading... 

Sometime this summer we were reading scriptures with the family, and Trevan was reading, and we had to keep getting after him for skipping words, (like, 'the,' and 'an' and 'is').  It hit me later that night what was going on and I told John that Trevan has already started speed reading. 

This past week, Trevan bought home his first fiction "chapter book" from the library (remember he only likes non-fiction), and it was a Captain Underpants book.  He sat down and read it in way less than an hour.  When he told me he finished the book, I was very skeptical and made him tell me about it.  Then, he wanted to show me the cartoon pictures and tell me about certain parts he liked - then I realized he actually did read it. 

I accused my son for the same thing that I'd been accused of which made me have a flashback to standing in that closet with Mrs. McCormick explaining that I like to read - a lot - and fast. 

Friday Flashback - Driver's Ed

Finally, at the age of 33, I can say that I’m an EXCELLENT parallel parker.  It has only taken a “few” years to perfect…  Let’s just say I used to drive around until I found a spot I could pull into…

When I started Driver’s Education – the behind the wheel portion, I hadn’t had very much practice driving yet.  Maybe that’s what happens when you are the fourth child?  I mean, I could drive a riding lawn mower no problem, how different could it be? 

Well… there were no lanes or stop signs in my yard… 

Driver’s Ed – Behind the Wheel has got to be the time in my life where I felt the most stupid/like an airhead/dumb/etc./etc./etc.  I have probably never been so flustered in my life.  We’re talking white knuckles on a steering wheel. 

I was pretty nervous getting behind the wheel seated next to my instructor that first day.   I was a horrible driver.  I didn’t change lanes properly, took too long to change lanes, or I didn’t look in my rear view mirror enough.  I felt like I was getting yelled at the whole time – though he wasn’t yelling – just annoyed with me.

When the instructor took me to a residential area, I stopped at EVERY intersection – stop sign or no stop sign.  I just could not figure it out.  Mr. Fitzgerald would say, “WHY ARE YOU STOPPING???”  or "What are you waiting for? Go!"

“I don’t know!” “I’m sorry!”  I’d explain a little flustered… 

My first day behind the wheel, we get back to school, he asks me to pull up beside the first tennis court by the entrance and back into a spot about 25-30 yards behind me.  I think it took me 25-30 minutes to go that far.  I could not figure out how to get the car to go the way I wanted it to going backwards! 

My teacher was clearly annoyed with me. 

That same day at lunch time, some guys I was sitting with started talking about watching someone in the driver’s ed car backing into the parking lot by their classroom and laughing  about how the person couldn’t do it.  I asked what time that was, and it turned out the person they were making fun of was me!!!!  

I started practicing more with my parents, and my mom liked to tell everyone that she thought my goal while driving was to make sure I hit every pot hole or crack in the road. 

I think I redeemed myself with my Driver’s Ed teacher when we were driving and a big truck majorly pulled out in front of me, and my reaction time was better than my teacher’s and I slammed on the brake before he slammed on his on the passenger side.  “Good job,” he said, probably after his heart started beating normally again.

I actually passed Drivers Education.  After my test, my teacher turned to me and said, “This is the first time I’ve actually seen a bad driver turn into a good driver.  Good job.”

He would totally be impressed with my parallel parking skills. 

Friday Flashback - Bras and Bandaids

It was the beginning of a new school year, the first day back on the bus and I was headed to sixth grade.  I noticed M.P. (a boy I grew up with, I'll use initials to protect the guilty) was looking at my chest.  Over the summer, I had probably grown a little bit, and had gotten a few new bras.  I was wearing a button down white casual kind of blouse, so it wasn't tight at all, and I even remember the bra I was wearing.  This bra in paticular was even the kind that didn't have any of the padding that makes you actually look bigger than you are. Well, M.P. asked if I stuffed my bra...  I could have hit him!  (I actually did slap him later that year... but that's another story for another day...) 

I didn't really think anything of it again.  A few weeks later in P.E. when we were changing our clothes, one of my new friends, I had just met that year, Holly, said "Yeah, M.P. said you stuff your bra."  I think I said something like, "does this bra look stuffed to you?"  or something like that.  He had been telling people I stuffed my bra!  Like sixth grade is easy anyway...  Middle school was the worst. 

Then, when I was a young teenager...  We were visiting my grandparents, and my grandma and my mom were sitting around the kitchen table, when I walked in and told my mom I wanted to go to the mall. 

My Grandma asked what I needed at the mall, and I told her that I needed a new bra.  To which she replied, "Why do you need to buy a bra?  I've got some band-aids you can use over there in that drawer."

She really cracked herself up over that one. 

Friday Flashback - Music Unappreciation

I had transferred to James Madison University after receiving my Associates Degree from Ricks College.  Even though I had my Associates it was almost as if I had to start over on my general requirements which I was not very happy about.   One of the classes that I had to take was Music Appreciation, even though I had already met that requirement in my opinion, but whatever. 

I had made my schedule to coordinate with my then fiance, and we had signed up to take that class together.  We ended up calling off our engagement shortly after the semester started, but still usually sat next to each other or close to each other with only a very brief period of us probably not talking to each other. 

For the record we didn't chat all through this class, at most we might have written notes or something...

Picture a very large classroom with stadium seating and we sat close to the back/top.  The class was pretty full.  Not completely full, but full. 

One day in class, I'm practically falling asleep taking notes and I had my head propped up by my arm, with my head bent down looking at my paper.  All of a sudden, the professor starts reaming someone for always talking in class and being distracting, etc.  I was thinking to myself, "Man, the poor student who's getting this lecture..."  Then he went silent, and the whole room was silent.  I looked up to see why it was so quiet and the professor had been talking to me!!!  He had asked a question and was waiting for me to answer it!  I was like, "I'm sorry I didn't hear the question?"  He re asked the question which flustered him, and probably made him more angry.  I don't even remember what it was...  I had not even been talking!!!!  My ex was totally laughing because he thought it was so funny for me to get called out for nothing!  Strike one for crazy music professor. 

Another day in the same class we were watching a video about Mozart or Beethoven and there was to be a quiz on the previous nights homework after the video was over.  I decided the video was boring and would refresh for the quiz while the video was going.  I used one of those extra super duper teeny tiny pen lights that was on my key chain to glance over my notes....  A few minutes later the movie stopped abruptly, the lights came on, and the professor started talking.

He started ranting at me, "The light is so distracting, and you do not study for other classes during this class.  Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.  If you would like to study for another class you may leave right now, or would you like to stay to finish the movie?"

I meekly answered, "I'll stay..." and he resumed the movie.  Strike two!

Oh my word people, I have never felt more like a fifth grader in my life than when I was in that class.  That balding, round man hated me.  I swear he was just getting senile because the people that sat in front of us off to my side totally talked through class, and he just thought it was me because he couldn't see all the way up to the top of the class.  I HATED that class.  I totally skipped that class as many times was legal for me to get a decent grade. 

Let's just say that professor did not get a good review from me at the end of the semester...

That class was supposed to help us appreciate music, it made me hate it.  After that class,  I should have been able to tell all the major composers apart from each other by hearing their music.  Still can't to this day. 

Friday Flashback - When I almost got suspended from school

Like most sixth grade girls, I was surrounded by friends that talked about each other behind their backs.  One of my friends, Cathy (names have been changed to protect the guilty...), talked really bad about one of my other friends, Jalina (who were also friends with each other).  I guess one day the back biting (or my friend Cathy...) really got on my nerves so I told Jalina that Cathy said not very nice things about her behind her back. 

Did you get all that?  Phew!

Well, Jalina didn't believe me!  I decided I was going to prove it to her, because I was not a liar!

So, I knew my dad had a mini tape player/recorder at home, and I prepped it with a clean tape and took it to school the next day.

During Mrs. Bradley's class the next day, I carefully put the recorder under my shirt, hit record, sat down next to Cathy, and proceeded to catch on tape some great material of her talking about our friend Jalina.   It was that easy.

I later played the tape for Jalina, who was obviously upset and confronted Cathy. 

End of day. 

The order of what happened next is all a blur.  Cathy went home and told her mom, and this is not a mom to mess with.  Her mom called the principal, the teacher, probably their lawyer (her husband...).  I remember talking to Mrs. Bradley (I was most embarrassed about because she went to church with us and was friends with my parents), I was written up with a blue slip (I got detention), and I had to talk to the principal who threatened me with suspension.  That's a lot of stuff to go down for someone like me who never really got in trouble like that!  I wasn't really upset about the whole thing, because I thought I was pretty smart, but I was bummed I got caught. 

Cathy's mom demanded the tape.  Hello??  I'm not that stupid, once I realized I was busted I destroyed that thing. 

I don't remember my parents saying anything.  Years after high school I remember talking about it with my dad, and he said that when it happened he thought I was pretty clever, but of course he didn't tell me that when it happened. 

If this were to happen to one of my kids, my kid being the Cathy of the story, I would write a thank you note to the clever student who caught my child back biting.   Maybe that would teach him/her a lesson!!  Seriously!!  Why in the world would you call the principal because your child was caught talking about someone else on tape?  Too funny.

Just think how easy this would be to pull off in today's world with an iPhone that records???    :)

Friday Flashback

(I'm going through all my unpublished posts...  This was from last summer sometime, I don't know why blogger messes with the dates that I type something...)


I literally had a flash back this morning...

My crazy kids usually get up before 6, I stay in bed for almost an hour more while they watch their favorite show, Wild Kratts. 

This morning, I happened to already be awake and working, and heard the kids wake up loudly above me, and they came down the stairs suprised to see me. 

Seriously, they are crazy.

While they watched their show, and I worked, I was thinking about what a character Mallary is, and then I had a flashback to her baby blessing and how John said in the blessing that she made it here because of the prayers offered in her behalf' or something to that effect. 

Before I got pregnant with Mallary, I had a miscarraige.  So, after my miscarraige, I prayed that I would be able to get pregnant again, and then when I got pregnant, I prayed that I would be able to carry my baby to full term.  So John and I prayed for that every day.  But, what I didn't know until after my mom died, and my dad gave us a copy of her last journal and his journal from that past year, was that my parents prayed for her safe arrival every night as well. 

At my ultrasound during my pregnancy with Mallary, I was told I had placenta previa.  (what is placenta previa?)   Placenta Previa can be very dangerous to your baby and to yourself.  There are a few different types of previa, low lying, or partial previa, mine was complete previa, meaning my placenta was lying on the bottom of my uterus covering the opening to my cervix.  Basically, if it doesn't move you have to have a c-section.  Usually when it's a low lying placenta the risk is not as high, but with complete previa it has to completely move over and then move up as well, so it is least common for complete previas to move.  So, I had that to deal with - my Doctor told me to try not to pick up Trevan, or do anything really physically demanding. 

Also, during the ultrasound they found a thing in her brain that was a sign that she could be born with down syndrome.  I opted not to do any other tests to find out for sure, because the outcome wouldn't matter, I would still have her so I didn't want to do any tests. ( SIDE STORY: My sister even had clients that when she told them of my situation, they would ask, "What's she going to do?"  Like I would choose to have an abortion, just because my baby might have down syndrome.  Isn't that crazy that people would choose to kill their unborn child based on a slight possibility of something like that???   As you know, Mallary was born completely fine.  How many completely fine babies have been aborted.... So so sad...)

During this time my sister got engaged and I was helping plan and do her wedding.  I was due about a month after her wedding, but if my placenta had not moved by the time of her wedding I was going to be put on bed rest, and I would have to miss her wedding. 

Needless to say, there was lots to pray about, and we were for sure praying...  So, when John said that in Mallary's blessing, I just assumed it meant my prayers, but there had been lots of prayers offered on her behalf. 

Fast forward: At my ultrasound before my sisters wedding, we found out my placenta had moved, completely, it wasn't even low lying.  Yeah!  And, then when Mallary was born, she was totally fine.

I love that I had that flashback this morning. 

It's funny how I prayed so hard to get her here, and to get her here safely, and now, on most any given afternoon I would gladly send her to someone else's house to live.  :)  True story. 

Friday Flashback - Plucking my eyebrows

Fall 1998, College Roomies - Arlena, Me, and April

Some of the scariest moments during my college years, surprisingly wasn’t when there was some creep hanging around the apartment complex I was living in, whom I eventually chose from a police photo line up, and was the only one out of a group of girls that identified him correctly (still VERY scary, I just didn’t fear for my life, though it left me with a tendency to have anxiety attacks for a while, but that’s a story for another Friday Flashback…), but they actually came from a job I had. 

I’m not sure how my roommate, Arlena and I even scored this job, but I was engaged to be married (not to John…) and wanted money, and was up for anything.  Even having my eyebrows plucked…

We agreed to help this older couple organize and clean their house.  She had a bad back and couldn’t do the things she wanted done, and her husband had just had some surgery where he wasn’t able to either.   Let’s just say he was the scariest driver I have ever ridden with.  (That last sentence should make my husband feel good…) 

He was old, nice, white hair, kinda chubby, kind face - that’s all I remember.  He picked us up in an old truck, and we had to sit in the front seat… Arlena and I next to him.  I want to say that neither of us wanted to sit in the middle close to him, and I’d like to think I was able to talk Arlena into sitting there… (“Don’t let Holly talk you into anything you don’t want to do.” I’m quoting one of my roommates and dear friends.  Do you know who  you are???)

Well, we were in Idaho where they still drive on icy roads.  Old man plus icy roads equals nervous college girls.  Arlena and I exchanged glances on that drive from our apartment to their house quite often.  Maybe thinking, “It was good to know you,” or “If you make it out alive, tell my family I love them.”   Other times we just tried to suppress our desire to giggle about the madness of it all.  Those drives were awkward.  I remember being chatty, and keeping up conversation, all the while not really wanting to be in that truck.  And I remember sitting as close to Arlena as I could so I wouldn’t have to be close to the old man.  I just remember, we were headed south (though, trust me when I say, at that time I had no idea what direction south was), and the truck fish tailing.  Those were always scary drives. 

Oh my goodness, the woman -  Did she wear sweatpants? Or those polyester pants that older women tucked their shirts into? Maybe both, my memory fails me there.  Her hair was short, tightly permed, and an orange-ish, gold-ey color with maybe even a hint of pink.  She climbed her basement stairs on all fours.  I’ll never forget having to follow her up the stairs.  Her pants were mint green (so, maybe polyester?). 

I don’t really remember much about her house, except it was decorated like my grandma’s but less country.  She was big into make-up.  She talked about appearances a lot.  She was talking to two girls not wearing make-up, we got it…  I think she looked at us like a service project, like it was her duty to help us.  I mean, I was engaged. Obviously someone found me attractive, but to no avail, my eyebrows had to be plucked.  She taught us where our eyebrows should begin and end, and where we should pluck.  Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen my eyebrows, but, I really don’t have any.  Nevertheless, Arlena and I plucked our eyebrows after work one day, dutifully following crazy lady’s instructions. 

I obviously survived those scary drives, and my eyebrows survived the plucking. 

And that, my friends, is why and when I started plucking my eyebrows. I knew you were just dying to know...