I don't have kids. Nope. Don't. Or hadn't you noticed in all this time reading the asinine words I vomit onto my computer (ew. Okay, so I wanted to write: that I vomit onto paper. But that would've been inaccurate.)? Hadn't you noticed that I never write about children, unless it's my bestie's son Ethan or the baby lust I am stricken with?
You didn't notice?
So yeah, no kiddos here.
But I was once a child myself, believe it or not (those may be the exact words my dad used many, many times). I did. The crazy lady was once a crazy child. And I totes was a crazy child. A little compartmentalized (which is a nice way of saying it).
I was actually pretty shy, but not allowed to be. I wanted to read or create pretend worlds alone in my bedroom, but instead spent most of my time trying to be my mother's little star.
Wait, how did this post get to be about my mom?
Back on track...I was somewhat shy. But also hyper. Not rambunctious, per se. No. And not ADD either (ADHD hadn't been invented yet). I could certainly focus my brain to the point of not being able to hear anything going on around me if I so chose.
I just couldn't sit still. A fidgeter. Constantly in motion. It was a good thing I had 5 different dance classes, soccer, swimming, and horseback riding, because I liked to move. But that didn't necessarily get the energy out; it wasn't excess energy that was the problem. In the grocery store, I'd dance down the aisles (you mean they don't make them that long for that express purpose?). At school, I'd tap my feet under my desk or fiddle with whatever I could find. I just couldn't stop.
Okay, so maybe that does qualify as rambunctious. But, I never caused trouble. I was that know-it-all good little girl teacher's pet Hermione-type.
I was a talker though. Notes to my parents from teachers always read: bright but talks a lot.
Are you beginning to understand me a little better? So I was this insane, shy little child who was scared of new things, but once you got me going wouldn't shut up and couldn't sit still if you paid me.
Cut to today: lazy ass biotch who has been lazing in bed until 10 and 11 every day accomplishing jack squat (Who is Jack Squat? Is he cute?). Unemployment is truly delicious. Except for the whole no income part.
But it's enjoyable as all hell.
Today? I am the opposite of rambunctious.
I think that's called getting old.
This post participates in:
- Chicks who do it for me
- Lose Weight Fast with the Heartbreak Diet!
- Margaritas, Weed, and Slut Signals
- epic existential post just in time for that arbitrary changing of the calendar which I so love
- Public Service Announcement
- Horrifying Shit on Pinterest: Slut Shaming E-Cards
- Animal Monster Bird Squawk Dinosaur Creature
- My Doctors Always Suck, otherwise entitled Why I Hate Kaiser
- Sexy Saturdays: Slutty Saturday
- Homesickness, Anxiety, and Other Ailments