Monday, May 22, 2006

Memory Monday

I was trying to figure out just how far back I can remember....it must be somewhere between 2 and 3 years old. My daddy had a construction job in west Texas, near Midland. The three of us lived in a little tiny camp trailer. It did have a kitchen, but no bath. I hated the showers, and screamed and cried every time I had to have a bath. We were expecting family coming for a visit, so I had been scrubbed til I shown like a new penny. My grandmother said I looked strange, almost alien, because I had bright blue eyes and cotton-white hair, but was so tanned I looked Mexican or Indian--even my scalp showed tan through the white hair.

So there I was, all clean and dressed, and Mama had told me to stay that way until our comapny came. I was wandering around outside when they drove up. My cousin Danny, a year older than me, always had good ideas about what we could do together.

He dug a hole in the sand. In west Texas, that's pretty much all there is, is sand. He dug a big hole. Then he told me to lay down. Well, there wasn't room for all ofme in the hole, so I lay on my back and my head fit neatly into the hole. He then filled the hole with dirt.

When Mama came looking for me, my dress was still clean, and so were my hands and face. But my hair was full of sand. So.....my punishment was to head back to the damp dank shower house to have my hair washed again. I can remember screaming, "I ain't dirty!" all the way down the path, but I still had to take another shower.

Mama had made me some cute little pajamas, and since she was going to put me to bed to keep me out of trouble the rest of the evening, she put them on me. But I wasn't ready for bed, and was determined not to have the pajamas put on me. I kicked, cried, screamed, and generally threw a hissy fit, but Mama, with some help from Daddy, Granny B, and a couple of aunts, finally got those pajamas on me and put me to bed.

When she came back to check on me, I had cried myself to sleep.

And the pajamas were in a tangle on the floor.

3 comments:

Nikky said...

oh wow, I LOVE that story, ESPECIALLY the ending! You remind me of stories I heard about me when I was 5 or 6 and going to the doctor - and having to have 2 parents, 2 nurses, and 1 doctor to give one small child a shot (picture one adult each firmly holding one limb and a doctor trying to simultaneously hold down and aim at a wiggling and dodging butt!)...

Katherine@Raising Five said...

That is hilarious! Knowing my dirty little kids just might grow up into funny grandmas someday helps me get through. I just want to know if (as my mother prayed for me, I'm sure) you had a child just like yourself?

Jan said...

Katherine, I certainly did. And now he has one himself. When I remarked one day that he was paying for his raising, my dear daughter-in-law responded, "But I was a good kid! Whose raising am I paying for?" I said, "It's going to take both of you to pay for *his* raising!"