Part 1 of a 6-week series
Growing up I felt like I had a fairly normal childhood. My dad worked and my mom stayed home. I don’t have many memories from my childhood (due to an illness in high school, which we’ll get to next week), but what I do remember was pretty happy and good.
I remember my mom sewing and making all kinds of doll clothes for me one year (birthday or Christmas, I don’t remember) because I loved my dolls, but they couldn’t afford the clothes. No matter…I was thrilled with the clothes and the fact that I could now dress up my dolls!! I had options!! Lol
I also remember my parents, grandparents and uncle playing in the church softball league. We would spend many Thursday nights and weekends at the fields. There was a dirt pile in one area and I remember coming home covered in dirt so many times!! Occasionally my parents would strip us down and hose us off outside because of all the dirt!!
The softball fields are also where I had my first major injury. I remember running (in flip-flops no less) and my foot falling off the side of my flip-flop. I didn’t think much about it so I continued to play for the rest of the night (we’re talking hours here). As we were leaving I told my parents my ankle hurt and I couldn’t walk anymore. Being just like every parent other parent, they told me I ran and played all night on it I could walk to the car (I was probably 5 at the time). After we got home I continued to complain, so my dad had a look. My ankle was the size of a grapefruit!!! My parents used to tell me they never felt so bad in all their life!! They took me to the ER and found out I had torn my Achilles tendon and broke the growth plate in my right foot. Seriously?? From falling off a flip-flop?! They put me in a cast and gave me crutches. UGH!! I was bummed! I loved to play outside and run around. Once the swelling and pain went away I was ready to be done with that silly cast. I can remember going outside and sitting in a chair in the courtyard of our townhouse just waiting for my mom to go inside. And as soon as she did…I was up and walking, running and playing on that foot – cast and all! I was a stubborn thing.
Speaking of stubborn, one of my mom’s favorite stories of me is the time I stole the cookie from the cookie jar. I was probably 2-3 years old at the time and I cleverly used the drawers in the kitchen as a ladder to the countertop. I had already been told I couldn’t have a cookie, but apparently I was determined. My mom came around the corner just as I pulled a cookie out of the jar. She says she told me to put it back and I stared her down. As she started to move towards me I quickly shoved the cookie in my mouth and began chewing. She guesses it was because the cookie outweighed my punishment. I think it was the fact that I just liked cookies!
There are so many stories I could tell you about my childhood. Like the time I tried to help my brother “fly” like Superman out our 2nd story window – don’t worry, I held his feet tight and he was fine. My mom on the other hand…not so much.
Or the time I wanted to wade in the murky water with all my little friends and I was the only one who found a large piece of glass that gashed open the bottom of my foot and I had to have something like 15 stitches.
Or the time I made my brother dress up like a girl and play outside with me at our first house. Yeah…that was fun!!! For me – not him. 
Really, overall my childhood was pretty normal. We went to church every Sunday, we did VBS in the summer, we went on family camping trips – we were a “normal” Christian family. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized how innocent a child is and how what I thought was a “normal”, happy home was in fact a very broken and hurting one.
I loved the fact that my mom made my clothes. I loved shopping for the material and picking out the patterns. It never dawned on me that she made my clothes because we didn’t have the money to buy them at the store. To say that I was naïve is probably a gross understatement.
I was a typical little girl. I loved to play house and school with all my dolls. I loved to play dress-up with my Barbie’s and I loved all my My Little Pony ponies. My world was happy and complete. At least as far as I could tell.
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Come back next week when I’ll talk about how my world completely changed and fell apart in one summer during my high school years.
I am writing this series in hopes that some of the experiences and situations I have encountered during my life will give hope and healing to those hurting.
Blessings,
Annette
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