Alright, so we’ve come to Part II of my Scared to Death series. In this post, I will go over a couple of the more traumatic things that
haunt me I’ve lived through and have made me the psychotic mess well-rounded adult that I am today.
So I invite you to get in, sit down and put on your seat belt. I will not be held responsible for heads hitting windshields or falling out of the vehicle.
Nothing Nemo When I was 2 years old, I made my very pregnant mother pass out and then chase a speeding vehicle. She was 8 months pregnant with my youngest brother, middle child was 1 and I was at the ripe curious age of 2. We were at my grandparent’s house in Montreal visiting on a beautiful summer day. In the backyard, my grandfather had placed, up against the shed, an old aquarium on a stand. I had asked several times what was in it but they were either ignoring me or telling me nothing. NOT a valid answer for a 2 year old. It was too high up for me to see so I looked around for something to stand on. Oh! What’s that? A football? That will make a perfect step! I put it in front of the aquarium and it probably took me 10 minutes just to balance on the damn thing. I finally manage to stand up and stretch my neck as long as I can (nasty nickname of giraffe coming back to me now) and press my little nose to the glass. Well, would you believe that? Other than cobwebs, the damn thing is empty! Before I even had time to utter my first profanity, the ball slips out from under my feet so I naturally hold onto the aquarium to stay up. This, of course, doesn’t work and I fall backwards, with the glass aquarium falling on top of me. The broken glass has decided to visit my eyes, ears, nose and mouth and has cut the side of my neck so severely that the doctor’s later told them I was lucky to have survived this incident and that the cut missed my jugular vein by mere millimeters.
My mother sees all the blood and passes out. My grandmother, after giving my grandfather hell about the damn fish tank (don’t worry grandma, I have lots of blood to spare in my 2 yr old body and can wait for you to finish your “I told you so” speech), scoops me up (leaving my pregnant and passed out mother on the grass) and the two of them put me in the car and start racing towards the hospital. My grandmother is bouncing me up and down and singing, trying to make sure that I don’t fall asleep (maybe the lullabies weren’t the best choice of song?) and my grandfather is driving as fast as he can. In the meantime, my mother has regained consciousness and realized that we are gone. She races around to the front of the house and spots the car and begins to chase it…with her 8 month pregnant belly bouncing as she ran. I have no idea where my brother was at the time but I’m betting that this one of the things he wrote about in his novel “The Things That Made Me a Crazy Bitch”.
Things worked out in the end though. I didn’t die, middle child survived as well and baby brother became the
pot smoking, anal retentive type A personality well balanced man that he is today.
Waldo Wendy? Picture this. I am about 12 years old sitting in the back seat of my parents’ car. I am on the right side, my youngest brother (10) was in the middle, and the second oldest boy (11) in our family was on the left. Either my seat belt wasn’t working or my father’s car was not equipped with them because I wasn’t wearing one. Well, doesn’t middle child decide that a good game of “bologna sandwich” was in order. If you’ve never played “bologna sandwich”, then you’re definitely probably normal missing out!
The two on the sides take turns pushing towards the center, ultimately
scarring for life squishing the youngster in the middle! Doesn’t that sound like fun? What we didn’t realize though was that my door, although locked, was not closed properly and when middle child decided to push the living shit out of his younger brother, he in turn pushed me towards the door and guess what? The door flies open and I fall out and hit the pavement! Of course, not ALL of me flew out, my damn feet were tangled underneath my mother’s seat and my father proceeded to drag me for awhile until he realized that one of his kids was trying to make a run for it. A couple of turns and a few hundred feet later, we came to a stop. Believe it or not, I had scrapes and bruises but nothing more. We never even went to the hospital.
That’s it for now. I have many more stories, but I’m tired and have reached my quota of happy childhood memories for today. Hope I made you smile at least once.