In class today we talked about family. What family meant to us and all that jazz. Well, this particular discussion just happened to stir up a whole bunch of memories of family. I felt like sharing two, mostly because I find them funny and also because they're two of my favorites to tell.
When we had to draw the floor plan of our house (no joke people) this was the first memory that ran through my head. I happen to have a house where you can walk in a continuous circle through the living room, dining room, kitchen, and the hallway in between the living room and kitchen. Forget the rest of the house, this is where I tend to spend most of my time on the phone. Ever since I hit that mystical age where the phone becomes glued to your ear, I find myself walking around this circle in my house while chatting. I've done this since middle school and I seriously doubt that it's going to change anytime soon. Well, it so happened that my best guy friend in middle school had a similar layout. It was even in the same order of sorts!
Again, ignore the rest of the house.
So we're just chatting away one day and he asks me "So whatcha doin'?" Rolling my eyes at his question (he asked me that almost every ten minutes back then) I replied with "Well, I'm walking around my house talking to you!"
"Oh...wow. I'm doing that too. Where are you in your house?"
Wondering where he was going with that I told him the truth. "I'm passing through the Kitchen." His response?
"I'm in the living room.....I'm winning!!"
Next thing I know, we're having a race through our separate houses that seemingly has no end. Randomly yelling out "Kitchen!" "Hallway!" "Dining ROOM!!" didn't seem weird at all. One thing I happened to forget was that my dad was downstairs working. So it's no surprise that after a few minutes of rapid running above his head, my dad walked up to find out what was going on. The stairs from the basement lead directly to the Kitchen, so when I entered, full hilt into the room I had to skid to a stop at the sight of my dad glowering down at me. (This, obviously, was before I gained my height advantage.)
"Just. What. ARE you doing?"
Gulping I squeaked out "Uh...having a race..?" Meanwhile my friend on the phone kept yelling "Living ROOM! Suz? Are you there? I'm winning you knooooooooooooow!" Dad, thankfully, just shrugged and told me to stop. Apparently he has no memory of this incident.
So besides having to stop random races, my dad was also there when I had to learn to ride a bike. About a week before my ballet recital, my dad takes me out to the black top to work on my yet-as-non-existent-bike skills. Before leaving the house, my mother gave a stern warning to NOT let go of my bike. I was in no way ready or confident enough yet and ergo, I would fall. So we start off, me sitting on the bike peddling away and my dad holding on to the bike while I got my balance equalized. After a few times back and forth across the black top, dad asked if I wanted to try any more or if I was ready to head back in. I wanted one more try, and as I started I felt very free, as if I was riding on my own!
Turns out I was. My dad suddenly thought that it was ok to let go, and as I turned to tell him how much fun I was having my heart stopped when I realized he wasn't there. Then, my confidence left me and my bike toppled over. I had scraped my knees and noticing that I began to cry my head off. In the end, my mother was more annoyed that I had to have band aids under my tights than the fact that my confidence in riding my bike was shattered.
Skip ahead a year and I'm still not riding a two wheeler. I loved to ride with my sister and her friends, but on my little trike of a bike I was always trailing behind yelling "Hey! Wait up!" So one day my sister finally snapped. It was a Sunday, and we had just changed out of our church clothes when my sister threw my bike helmet at me and said "Hey, get out here. You're going to learn how to ride a bike."
Despite my protests, she had me on that bike and slowly going in circles on the flat top of the driveway. Then instead of that dreaded black top by the street, she had me learn to balance by coasting down our sloping front yard. When I complained and said I would fall all she said was "Look, we'll make sure there are no sticks in the grass and so if you fall you won't scrape your knees. It's not going to feel good, but you won't need band aids!"
Needless to say by the end of the summer I was riding that two wheeler like a pro. My sister had done what our parents couldn't. She glued the pieces of my shattered confidence back together.
Then again, it might've been due to our close relationship. I practically hero worshiped my sister at that age. It kind of goes with that unspoken rule of little siblings. You must impress the elder sibling!!
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