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lisamariewillbe

Childhood memories...

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In light of recent news, I have done alot of soul searching and remembering... On here I have not seen many threads that talk about our pasts or our fond memories ... sometimes the memories that were horrid while going through them, turn into funny little stories... heres a bit of mine... please share yours

- when I was 5 , my brothers Michael (8) and Robbie (9) decided that since mom wasnt home, that it was time to torture me... it ended up with me on the floor and them using moms kirby to vaccum my hair. Needless to say once they realzied that my hair will not come out they had to cut it off... I was then prompted on what to tell mom when she saw me... I played it off well for my age, and even got grounded... the next day though when my mother went to vaccum it was doing something weird (cant remember what now) and she discovered what was wrong... needless to say I confessed what had really happened, and that got all three of us in trouble... it made me laugh remembering....

Our punishment for that was we had to stay in the garage the rest of the day... well at first it had been really boring, but then as we were looking around we noticed all the laundry. So we changed into my step fathers clothing and stuffed more clothing to make us into sumos... we sumo fought the rest of the day... when mom let us out and she inquired if we learned our lesson... Michael said "oh some lesson, we had more fun in there then we would have out here"

another time this conversation between my mom and Michael


Mom "Close the door , were you born in a barn?"

Michael " If so does that make you a cow?"

Mom "come here so I can smack you"

Michael "yea right, you want to smack me come get me"



Funny enough she stayed on the couch...

Anyone else have any good memories that popped into your head recently?
Sudsy Fist: i don't think i'd ever say this
Sudsy Fist: but you're looking damn sudsydoable in this

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Michael had a mouth! I think I would've liked him! Hope you're doing well, as well as could be expected.

When I was in 4th grade, we lived in MacDill AFB, Florida. My sister, who is 3 years older than me, and I used to fight like mad. Once when my parents weren't home, we got into it. I didn't have a shirt on for some reason, and when my back was turned to her she hit me as hard as she could in between the shoulder blades, knocking me out on the kitchen floor.

A little while later, we went at it some more. She wore glasses and I hit her in the face, breaking her glasses. She pretended like a piece broke off and hit her in the eye and I immediately felt awful. I kept trying to see if she was ok, but she just kept crying and holding her face. Finally, when she felt I had grovelled enough, as I was close to her face trying to ascertain the extent of her "injuries," she stopped her feigned crying, and sucker punched me. Turns out that was her plan all along.

Ah, the memories.

I miss Lee.
And JP.
And Chris. And...

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When I went back to NJ this past November, I stayed at my sisters house, we always reminese about what our parents did while we grew up and how off the wall their antics were.

We got on the subject of dads driving. He was a great driver, just drove a little fast. This would drive my mom bonkers. My mom started to get into the habit of making noises (Pissed my dad off, something fierce)when he would go around curves too fast or if he suddenly changed lanes. She also was one to step on that imaginary brake peddle:D. So the whole time I was up there and we went anywhere together, my sister and I, I would make the same noises as my mom. By the time we got to where we were going, we would be laughing our asses off and ready to pee ourselves.
Well...when it came time to take me to the airport, my mom and dad wanted to go to the airport with my sister and I. My sister drove, I rode shot gun and my parents were in the back....yep, you guessed it, she made those noises all the way to the airport and my sister and I tried like hell not to crack up, we just looked at each other and shook our heads...Aaaaah some things never change.


Bobbi
A miracle is not defined by an event. A miracle is defined by gratitude.

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As I grew up, I learned that my sisters we always out to get me in trouble. The time that it worked perfectly that sticks out most in my mind happened with I was really young, like 5 or 6. My mom use to get home around the same time everyday, and this one particular day was no execption. My older sister told me to run out in the road and check and see if she was coming yet. We had something we wanted to do that we had to wait on her to do, or something like that. Me being young and naive, I thought it was a good idea. So I go running out to the middle of the road, and lo and behold, my mom was about half a mile away. She spotted me immediatly, and promptly began punishing me before she even got the car door shut. I believe that was the day my sisters and I watched in horror as my Dad took his work station outside and made the first paddle that wasnt previously attached to a lil red bouncy ball...

A man will do anything for the right woman,
and when that woman destroys him,
that man will become a hunk of meat with the common sense of a rodeo clown! ~ Christopher Titus

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lol that just reminded me the time me and my siblings called the 1900 santa hotline, and spent alot of time listening to the stories and such... so when the bill came Michael told Chuck (step dad) that he caught me calling the numbers and that he tried to stop me but I refused to listen... we didnt get paddled, we got the belt.... i can still remember the sound of it coming out of the loops ...
Sudsy Fist: i don't think i'd ever say this
Sudsy Fist: but you're looking damn sudsydoable in this

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My sister and I got the "strap". It was an old belt that my dad had, that he never wore any more. He used to hide it from us and pull it out when the time came to use it on us. It was a glorious day when my sister and I stumbled upon it!! The next time he went for it and couldn't find it, that my friend, was a priceless moment!!! Gee Dad, you must be gettin' old! How WOULD WE know where it is? Its your belt! heheheheheheeee. He found it many years later when they were packing up the house to move to their condo that they live in now.


Bobbi
A miracle is not defined by an event. A miracle is defined by gratitude.

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My brother is 2 1/2 years younger than me. We used to fight all the time. This was when I was about 8 and he was 5 1/2 or 6 I guess. My grandmother was babysitting while our parents were at work. One night we were in the kitchen, close to the fridge. I was wearing white shorts. For some reason we were fighting and he said he was going to pour Kool-Aid down my shorts. (I have no idea why, now.) I told him to go ahead and try. HE DID! RED Kool-Aid! So my shorts were soaked, there was Kool-Aid all over the floor. I started crying and went to the bathroom to take a bath. The tub was full so I was leaning over to turn off the water. He came in behind me and pushed me in - still fully clothed. I remembered being SOOOOOO mad at him. I turned around and slapped him as hard as I could. A few hours later when Moma got home, he still had my handprint on his face. I got in SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much trouble. I tried to explain what happened, but it was useless. And Granny wasn't much help. She thought the whole thing was hilarious. :D

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I was born OLD>:(

as in OLD FART

raised on military posts around the whorld

army brat

used to play on daddys tanks .but could not play on tanks that had red ammo can on turret as they were war loaded with ammo ready to go fight the russians when they invaded

..
59 YEARS,OVERWEIGHT,BALDIND,X-GRUNT
LAST MIL. JUMP VIET-NAM(QUAN-TRI)
www.dzmemories.com

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My sister and I got the "strap". it was an old belt that my dad had that he never wore any more. He used to hide it from us and pull it out when the time came to use it on us. It was a glorious day when my sister and I stumbled upon it!! The next time he went for it and couldn't find it, that my friend, was a priceless moment!!! Gee Dad, you must be gettin' old! How WOULD WE know where it is? Its your belt! heheheheheheeee. he found it many years later when they were packing up the house to move to their condo that they live in now.


Bobbi



I used to keep this mental list of rhetorical question my father would ask when lecturing me.

"How stupid do you think I am?"
[Truth be told, I had some fairly detailed opinions on exactly how stupid I thought he was, but as retarded as I am (and was at the time), I was not nearly stupid enough to voice those opinions.]

"Do you want me to get the belt?"
[Sure, and why don't you shove a pipe wrench up my ass while your at it.]

"Did you think you would get away with that?"
[This kind of gets back to how stupid I thought he was. Would a genius ask that question?]

"Do you know what youre problem is?" (followed by a very lengthy discourse on exactly what my problem was)
[In my simplified view of the world at the time, he seemed to be my biggest problem.]

There were plenty of others, but these were among my favorites.

Oh, one other thing that annoys me to this day.

"By the time you are big enough to kick my ass, you will have more sense."
[I cannot tell you how many years I fantasized about walking up to him, reminding him of that statement and then beating the hell out of him, all the while reminding him that he had been quite wrong! What annoys me to this day is that he was actually right]

Of course that still doesn't mean that he really knew what my problem was!

(I should say here that my parents were loving and kind. They never abused me. I, on the other hand, was a fairly rotten kid. I still kind of am.)


Walt

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Well as for punishments, my parents gradually incresed it as we grew older. First was time out with out nose in the corner. Then came hand spankings. Paddle ball paddles and wooden spoon spankings, grounding, then taking away privilages.
Towards the end of my time living home, my parents did all but forfeit. They realized that no matter what they did, we were all so stubburn in our ways that we would find ways around their methods... I think getting around my parents, is where my siblings and I demonstrated just how smart we truely are. LoL!

A man will do anything for the right woman,
and when that woman destroys him,
that man will become a hunk of meat with the common sense of a rodeo clown! ~ Christopher Titus

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That reminds me of another story.

Since I was older than my brother, I used to blame him for everything. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

When we were younger, we would take our showers before bedtime. Moma took hers in the morning after we left for school. I guess I was about 12 at the time, so Jeff (my brother) was 10 or so. Well, one night I unscrewed the shower head and couldn't get it to go back on right. Water sprayed in all directions and I got scared. I didn't want to admit that I did it, so I didn't say anything. I guess this was on a weekend, because the next day when Moma took her shower I could hear her cussing and asking, "What in the HELL!?!?" I guess she fixed it and continued with her shower. When she got done, she found us and asked us which one did it. Both of us said, "Not me." She kept asking and we kept denying. Finally, she put us both in the corner and said we had to stand there until one of us admitted to it. Somehow, I convinced Jeff he did it. (He wasn't the brightest growing up, but neither was I!) :D So, he finally went to Moma and told her he did it. She sent him to his room for the rest of the day and I got to go outside and play. B|:S:D

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I don't remember just what I had done but it must have been bad. On a hot summer Sunday afternoon I remember being picked up by the back of my shirt and pants and thrown out the back door like you would throw water from a pail. I remember landing in the dry grass and just laying there for a long time.

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I remember:

Falling asleep at the beach at the modest little beach cottage my parents would rent for one week out of the year each summer... hot, exhausted on a chenille bedspread with the sound of the ocean just outside the window.

My dad taking me on an airplane ride when I was about 5 or so. His company was taking aerial photos of a building site and he had arranged for us to go along for the ride. Later, he said I almost climbed out of the plane I was so excited. I guess he's responsible for my never-ending love of the sky.

I remember a fight with the neighborhood bully. He had terrorized me for months. For some reason, I got a lucky shot in, and knocked him down the hill with a single punch. My dad pulled me off of him with what I now recognize as a mixture of pride and the need to instill some kind of restraint. I guess that's what dads are for....

I remember my first "slow dance" with a girl at age 10 -- at summer camp. My parents kept the letter I sent home after that for years: "Did you know that girls are warm ?" Heh.

shall
B|

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I think I was about 13 or so, and had that "teenager attitude", and was getting snotty with my mom during dinner with my brother, mother, and father, and myself sitting at the table and she was like "put some sugar in your voice", and before I could even think of what to say my brother (who was like 6 at the time) said "she can't put sugar in there mom, it will rot her teeth", Ha! out of the mouths of babes. She used to tell them how sugar would rot their teeth when they asked for sweets all the time. :)

take the time to appreciate the people around you.

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I don't remember just what I had done but it must have been bad. On a hot summer Sunday afternoon I remember being picked up by the back of my shirt and pants and thrown out the back door like you would throw water from a pail. I remember landing in the dry grass and just laying there for a long time.



I still remember the paddlings I got from my dad when I was a kid... he had one of those home-made plywood ping-pong shaped paddles. I can remember a couple times drawing blood on my bare ass from the two longest paddlings ever. You can bet your ass I won't be paddling my kid anywhere near that hard. :|
"Mediocre people don't like high achievers, and high achievers don't like mediocre people." - SIX TIME National Champion coach Nick Saban

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Another thing that just popped in my mind. I was in 1st grade it was spring and the school playground was next to a field my uncle farmed. He was out spreading manure with his brand new spreader and all the kids were grossed out by the smell. I was used to it:P Anyway I had been there a day or two before when my uncle was telling my grandpa how that son of a bitch would really throw shit, describing the new spreader. I being only six or so hadn't really learned the meaning of bad words yet. Hell they were common at home. I walked up to Mrs. Pullen my teacher and said that son of a bitch really throws shit don't it.:) She was mortified:o I don't think I ever got in any trouble but I was schooled on what not to say at school after that.

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