Sunday Social #17 | childhood memories

Sunday Social

What do you miss most about being a kid?

When I was little, and completely carefree and oblivious to grown-up responsibilities, I spent a considerable amount of time with my grandparents, playing golf at the country club, and in Louisville with extended family. Some Saturday mornings, I went to work with Dad (he worked as a land surveyor in the engineering department at a coal mine), we’d grab lunch at Townsend’s Grocery Store, and then head to the golf course for the rest of the afternoon. As I got older, I spent less time in the swimming pool and more time on the links. Once I was old enough to drive, I was going place to place for golf tournaments across the state of Kentucky, and other Southern states too.

I miss milk too. And cheese. And ice cream. All of the cow’s milk-laden products I used to eat and drink as a kid are no longer possible since I developed a severe food allergy as a young adult.

I also miss living in Kentucky. Granted, I left The Bluegrass State when I transferred to Beaumont, Texas as a college sophomore (August 2003) and never looked back. But there are days, too many to count, when I would rather live in Kentucky.

Did you have a nickname growing up? If so, what was it?

Both my parents detest nicknames and I’ve grown up having a similar opinion. One uncle of mine will occasionally call me “Nicky” only because he knows I don’t like it and it makes us laugh when I react. Please, do not call me Nicky. My name’s Nicole.

What was your favorite thing to do at recess?

Beat the living shit out of Phillip Dixon. No joke. I have no idea where that punk-a$$ kid is now, but if he were to walk up to me right now and introduce himself, I’d punch him in the face, then run like hell. He pushed me down on the playground one day, ruining my brand new jeans with a big ol’ grass stain and my soul was crushed. I brushed myself off, dried my tears, and took off on a holy terror to find him. When I did, he was right in the middle of the monkey bars hanging on for dear life. I did what any pissed off second-grader would do: punched him square in the gut. He fell to the ground, cried like a baby, and then told the teacher. The Shithead.

For the record: I was sent to Mrs. Neely’s office (she was the principal at my elementary school) that day and she made me apologize to Phillip. I said I was sorry, but I didn’t really mean it. I was only concerned about her calling my parents. I cried big ol’ alligator tears so she wouldn’t pick-up the telephone. Lucky for me, she did not call my parents and I kept the secret for years. Finally, on the day I graduated high school, I admitted to being a playground bully and punching Phillip Dixon in the stomach. Dad laughed, patted me on the back. Mom, however, threatened to call Mrs. Neely and get the full story. I have no doubt she probably did just that. What is it with mothers and investigative abilities???

As for the other days at recess, we had this dome that was great for climbing and everybody wanted to sit at the top because it was the only flat, semi-comfortable spot. We would also try to balance as many people as we could on the teeter-totter. We were little Einsteins.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

I once answered this question in an essay I wrote in elementary school saying I wanted to be Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Then, once I realized the true nature of her character’s occupation, I changed my mind. I had interests in marine biology and even adopted a humpback whale with money I got for my 11th birthday. Finally, after many years of advanced-level reading and writing in high school, I excelled in college English courses and communications, journalism, and public relations. Fortunately, having a blog is my creative (and often therapeutic) outlet.

What was your favorite toy?

As an only child, I had to entertain myself. I loved playing “grocery store” or pretending to be a waitress at a restaurant. One day, Dad brought home a *REAL* working cash register. It, quite possibly, was the single greatest day of my five-year-old life. It had buttons to push and made really cool noises and even had a cash drawer. I “robbed” my parents’ wallets and my piggy bank to fill that cash drawer too. I remember the day the electrical mechanics inside the register stopped working and the drawer was stuck. Of course, I panicked because there was *REAL* money inside that didn’t belong to me. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I ran to the garage and grabbed some tools and ran back into my bedroom. An hour or so later, Mom found me in the floor prying open the drawer with a screwdriver and set of pliers. Needless to say, the drawer was opened, I returned all the “stolen” cash, and that cash register was in the garbage bin the next day.

What is the funniest thing you did as a kid that your parents still talk about?

Just one? There’s so many.

  • Ran through the living room naked-as-a-jaybird then squatted and peed in the middle of the living room floor.
  • Drove the golf cart entirely too fast down the hill, sliding into the swing set slide. {That was epic, by the way.}
  • Took my grandmother’s diamond solitaire ring to preschool, gave it to a friend and she took it home. Her mother thought it was a play ring and was about to throw it away when the phone rang and it was my mother explaining it was *NOT* a fake.
  • Begged and pleaded with my mother to let me go to the rodeo alone — everyone else had backed out on me. Even at the tender age of 16, I had a love for cowboys, boots, and chaps. Thanks to Dad’s persuasiveness and expert negotiating skills, I went, I saw, and I conquered professional rodeo from the front row. At one point in the evening, I had a very handsome cowboy land in my lap after he scaled the fence to avoid being trampled to death by an angry bucking bull. I was pretty much in cowgirl heaven. {sigh.}


And now I will take this opportunity to apologize for my excessive long-windedness of this post. Somebody please press the *MUTE* button.

Happy Sunday!!!!!!

By |2012-09-30T00:05:51+00:00September 30th, 2012|Blog, Uncategorized|5 Comments

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  1. kendall September 30, 2012 at 2:17 pm - Reply

    haah! This part “I once answered this question in an essay I wrote in elementary school saying I wanted to be Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Then, once I realized the true nature of her character’s occupation, I changed my mind” made me laugh so hard! Thanks for the laugh friend!!

    • Nicole September 30, 2012 at 4:12 pm - Reply

      Glad you enjoyed it …… it’s a completely TRUE story!!!! I wanted to be Pretty Woman!!!! Ohhhh the innocence of being a kid. =)

  2. ARod October 1, 2012 at 8:35 am - Reply

    i still love that movie its one of my all time favorites have a lovely week

    • Nicole October 1, 2012 at 11:33 am - Reply

      Pretty Woman will, no question, ALWAYS be a favorite movie of mine too!!!!!! Thanks for visiting Three 31, I hope you’ll stop by again soon.

      Nicole =)

  3. lovelylici1986 October 2, 2012 at 5:16 pm - Reply

    Hahahaha. It’s funny to look back and remember. The stories just flow. 🙂
    My parents never gave me any nicknames either. It’s not a “thing” in our family. Wait. My brother got stuck with “Pumpkin” because he was fat and… orange? When he was born. It stuck until he stopped answering to it somewhere around 12. Lol.
    I also took my mother’s engagement ring to school. In my pencil case. It somehow got lost in the sandbox. A boy in my class found it and turned it in. My mother was eternally grateful and bought him colouring books and stuff. Embarrassing! Lol.

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