Halloween Memories
Yesterday was Halloween. I absolutely adore Halloween, but have noticed a change as I have gotten older. Traditions and routines have changed with the passing years and I can’t decide how I feel about it.
Some of the favorite memories were the family time. Trick or treating involved all the grand kids getting ready in their costumes, then posing for a picture out on the front step with the pumpkins we had carved for the year. We would set off into the neighborhood and knock on door after door. Somehow the miles we ended up walking didn’t even phase our young bodies, we just kept moving if it meant more candy to add to our bags.
Obviously pumpkin carving is a Halloween staple. One that my family honored every year, including this one. Yesterday I spent two hours elbow deep in pumpkin guts trying to clean out the large cavern inside to allow me to be able to cut a super cute face on one side. I went for a traditional Jacko lantern face this year, with the one tooth on each side of the mouth. In the past I have attempted many of the fancy designs, and several even turned out great. There is something about the traditional face that keeps brining me back to it though.
I no longer get super dressed up, or go out to a party like I did as a kid. But I refuse to let go of a few traditions. I will try my best each year to carve a pumpkin, and get at least a few sweet treats to eat. And who knows, maybe if I have kids, they will get to enjoy all the traditions that I loved as a kid. A full circle moment would really make my heart happy.
Barbie: The Woman, The Myth, The Legend
Friday, July 21st, I joined my Aunt (mom’s sister) and her family for a birthday trip to the movie theater. We saw the Barbie Movie. As someone who grew up playing with various Barbie dolls, I really enjoyed the movie. There was more depth than I thought there would be. Also the storyline resonated with me. Now, I refuse to provide too many spoilers, so please watch it yourself if you really are interested.
Like I previously stated, I grew up playing with Barbies. I only had my older brother around at family functions until my little sister was born five years after me. Until she was born I didn’t really play that many girly games, but I was all for it by the time she arrived. Thus started my Barbie phase.
Back in the early 2000s, there were not many options to get extra clothes for these dolls, so often we would be playing with very naked toys. My sister created clothes for them out of various colors of duct tape. Honestly it was a decent solution, the dresses never got lost because you could never undress the dolls again. She definitely deserves points for creativity and getting the job done. (Side note: my grandma hated that we had naked dolls, so we would hide them when she came to visit.)
As we would play, our dolls would take damage in the conventional way, but they also would be broken other ways. My family owned a large black lab, named Bella, who developed a keen sense for doll plastics. It became her favorite thing to chew on. So several of our Barbies became amputees and we would play with them even after they began missing limbs. This created another “game” of sorts. Hide the dolls after you were done playing with them so Bella wouldn’t find them and eat a limb off. Finding spots that our Barbies could live in between play sessions that were both safe from Bella, and hidden from my grandma, was a difficult task all on its own. Not sure if this was typical play with other children, but I would throw my dolls down the stairs because they could fly in my imaginary world. My dad is a big superhero fan, so I guess I get it from him.
These dolls went through the wringer at my hands. Barbies were subjected to the same wear and tear that my other childhood toys dealt with. Hair was cut off and such to make them truly a child’s toy. Looking back now, I can’t help but smile at the memories that Barbie helped me create. I didn’t care about the beauty standards she has become the beacon for. I just wanted a person shaped doll, so I could live out my imaginary stories through them. Maybe Barbie helped me on my path to be a writer and story teller.
A Day to be Repaired
On May 28th, 2019 I had surgery on my left knee. There was quite the build up to the actual operation though. I had spent nine years trying every other option that my doctor offered to relieve the pain I was constantly living with. Nothing was showing up on the MRI scans or X-rays. No one could tell me what was causing me so much pain. I had gotten to the point that I was starting to think that there was no fix for me, and/or it was all in my head.
It all started October 10th, 2011. I had been dealing with knee issues, mainly jumpers knee, since sixth grade, but that day was different. During color guard practice for our home show that others had been setting up for to go on that night, I was turning around, and when I went to bend my knee, it gave out. Staggering amounts of pain came from my knee and I couldn’t speak through it in a normal voice. I was told by my coach who had to have been 50 yards away, that he heard what sounded like two hollow metal poles hitting each other, and when he turned to look all he found was me on the ground holding my flag like a safety blanket.
My teammates helped me off the field, and my mother was informed. She had been helping set up so she came to check on me. I iced my knee and marched through the pain that night to go on with my marching band. I told no one about the pain for the next week. The weekend after Home Show was the state compotation and I wanted to finish the season. Come Monday I couldn’t walk due to the pain.
This set of events started a sequence of many doctor appointments and treatments that ultimately lead me to being sent to the Mayo Clinic central hospital in Rochester, MN. There I met Dr. Dahm. That woman was my savior. She listened and helped me decide it was finally time to tailor a known surgery to my needs. Before I had been told that there wasn’t great odds that I would have less pain after. She didn’t promise pain reduction either, only that the structure would be repaired and that I would be able to learn to trust my knee again.
So I scheduled the operation for the summer months because I really didn’t want to be on crutches during the winter, plus I could wear shorts with the giant brace that came with recovery. My mom, grandma, and I spent the night before in a hotel. Needing to be at the hospital bright and early, and living three hours away did not mix. Doctors came in to the preop room and signed my knee to make sure we were all on the same page. Didn’t want to cut open the wrong limb. They even showed up this laser guide that helped the nurse put my IV in. My grandma was very interested in that laser thing.
The next thing I knew I was being wheeled into the cold operating room. I don’t remember much after that until I was eating dinner in my room. The doctors were pretty happy that I was hungry after, because the stomach tends to be fairly tired after surgeries.
My mom found a shirt, that I still wear these days, in the gift shop. It states proudly that I was repaired in Rochester. The laughter that shirt caused really helped me feel lighter after the surgery. What made me feel even better was when at my post op appointment, my doctor told me that they found the reason I was in so much pain for so long. The back of my knee cap was pretty damaged from rubbing on the bottom of my femur. With the structure work they did in the surgery, I no longer have to worry about that.
Recovery was quite the process. I hated not being able to do things for myself. My sister heard me complaining about that and found her own way to help me feel better. Normally I am the one who scoops the ice cream for the family when we have it. I couldn’t do that confined to a large chair in the living room though. But my sister told me to grab my lap desk, and brought me over the scoop, the ice cream, and my bowl. I was able to serve myself at least and that absolutely made my day. It was the little things like that, that made me feel more like me.
I will forever be grateful for the scars that I now carry on my knee. 36 stitches, eight weeks using crutches to walk, and four months in a brace at all times. People say that your don’t know what you got until it is gone, and those moments of recovery certainly taught me to value the ability to do things for myself, and to find joy in the little things during the day.
Twin Ideas
Fun fact about me is that my maternal grandmother is an identical twin. This last weekend we celebrated their birthdays and we started sharing stories about how people around us reacted through our lives about having twins in the family. My grandma and aunt had a great time and laughter was the main sound to be heard over dinner and cake.
I think my favorite moment was when my friends would finally meet my great aunt at my graduation parties or various significant birthday gatherings. They would see the two sisters sitting next to each other, come up to me and ask, “There is two of them?” I can’t help but laugh each time I get asked that question. Once I am done laughing, I take a moment and explain. Once I am done explaining everything is fine again and they laugh off their question.
In the past I have gotten asked if my grandma is cheating on my grandpa. That once also makes me giggle. My grandparent have been married for over fifty years. They are very happy together. So not only does the idea of it make me laugh, but the almost inside secret that I am privy to that others don’t know about. When I explain the whole twin situation, they usually get embarrassed for even asking the question. I have to admire them for even asking in the first place because it takes quite a bit of guts to ask at all. (Side note: A man who worked for a grocery store was the first one that I know of to make this assumption. My grandparents would shop at the same store as my great aunt and uncle but on different days.)
Having a grandparent who is a twin certainly come with lots of laughter. I love having something extra fun about my family that has become an inside joke for us. And honestly there is no real difference between my grandmas, maternal and paternal, even though one is a twin. It mostly feels like I was given an extra grandma via my aunt. Because they are identical, I do include her in my medical records, but that is all the real difference.
I love my family and the unique parts of it that make for interesting stories and tales. They make my life filled with laughter.
Childhood Values
I was hanging out with one of my best friends the other day and we were watching her eldest child running through the sprinkler and playing in his little pool. The warm weather made it the perfect day to give him the little squirt guns that I had found recently. I became the cool adult because I engaged in a water fight with him. My shirt was soaked and my glasses speckled with droplets by the time he moved on to running through the sprinkler as it watered the grass.
These events got me thinking about my childhood and how we would entertain ourselves while on summer break. I am a 90s baby, so things like smart phones and iPads didn’t exist yet. Warm summer days were spent playing outside with the neighborhood kids, or on play dates with friends from school. Sprinklers and little kiddie pools were special treats used to try and beat the heat. If you happened to live in an area with street lights, as soon as they turned on, you were expected to be heading home for the night.
Looking back on these memories, I started thinking about how I wanted to approach raising my possible future children. I don’t want them to become attached to screens. Occasional time spent watching tv or playing on a smart device will be allowed. I treasured watching Saturday morning cartoons with my dad, while still in our pjs, eating a bowl of cereal. Also long car rides might be made a bit easier on my sanity if screen time was given.
Overall though, I think I would like them to have a childhood similar to mine. Playing outside and exploring the world while curiosity still runs deep in their bones. Learning about how the natural world works by getting their hands in the dirt. Using their imagination to create fantastical worlds that entertain the mind for hours. Making use of the warmer weather in the summer to get some vitamin D and learning to swim.
A child shouldn’t become jaded by the world until they are old enough to understand how we got to where we are, in my opinion. I want to try my best to preserve the innocent nature that they start with, for as long as I can. Fingers crossed that I can actually achieve this ideal.