My journals bear a disturbing resemblance to the Adrian Mole diaries by Sue Townsend; unfortunately mine aren't fiction. You can blame L.M. Montgomery for the excessively precocious tone. Well, that and the fact I have apparently been a drama queen from birth.
April 1, 1988 (9 years old) - We are at Oma and Opa's and I have a heartache.
Let the melodrama begin...
August 10, 1988 - We all went to the pool and I punched Nathan. Jenny and I had SO much fun!
Punching people really is fun. Too bad it's illegal.
October 3, 1988 - Mommy said I could only buy one book in book order. I don't care what she wants though, I'm going to buy as many books as I want. And I can spend my paper route money the way I want also.
The battle cry of a true rebel: I'm going to buy as many books as I want!
November 4, 1988 - I just cried and cried and cried. I don't understand why I feel so rotten, I just know that I feel really upset all of a sudden sometimes, and I just always feel really hurt about something, and I'm not sure what it is. Maybe it's Heather playing with Shannon all the time and ignoring me, or maybe it's having to sell Midnight, or maybe it's because I'm going through some type of kid's stage in growing.
This makes me sad. I worry about my kids inheriting my depression and anxiety and if I'll be able to identify it. I don't want to make a big deal out of the normal moodiness of kids, but I'm not sure I know what "normal" looks like. Hopefully they get their father's personality and never have to deal with this shit. I can't tell yet who Sass takes after because all two year olds are crazy. Most of them grow out of it...fingers crossed.
November 25, 1988 (10 years old) - Today Colin gave me a fancy ballpoint pen "in memory of me," he said. I was pleased and I said thank you. But it wasn't the same. I know now that I am far too young for a boyfriend anyway, and that even if I am, I should make sure I truly like him, and I'm not just trying to become "Miss Center of Attention" again.
Wise words from a just-turned-10 year old. Terrifying words from the point of view of a mother. I was dating at 10? Really?? Fortunately I went through quite an ugly duckling phase and the next date wasn't until I was 15. I'm torn between not wanting Sass to feel like a hideous troll for 6 or 7 years, and not wanting her to start dating at 10 years old. Please tell me there's a middle ground.
December 1, 1988 - I just finished colouring a picture for a colouring contest. Mommy says I have a fighting chance.
Um, thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.
December 4, 1988 - I'm going to write a story and it's going to be called "BITTER COLD TERRAIN."
January 28, 1989 - When my papers came, Heather had to come with me on my paper route because Daddy wanted me to do the papers RIGHT away. Oh, well. Oma gave me a box of chocolate peanuts and that cheered me up.
Hmm, I see a disturbing pattern here. Emotional eating much?
March 10, 1989 - I feel like a caged wild beast, all hurt and confused.
Rawr. Bad sign considering I haven't even hit my teens yet.
May 3, 1989 - Heather doesn't like me anymore and I don't care. I'm sick of trying to be friends with a pickle like her.
Pickles can be such bitches.
November 10, 1989 (11 years old) - Today I found out I didn't make the volleyball team. And stupid old Mrs. Ritter gave me a lecture.
I forgot about the birthday curse! Traditionally it has always been a bad day. The last few years it wasn't, so I forgot about the curse. But it turns out it was saving itself up for an extra shitty birthday this year. Literally.
August 3, 1990 (after I left my suitcase at camp) - Every night I pray that God will send my clothes back. But I'm really starting to wonder. If I don't get those clothes back, though, then I sure don't think much of God. Not sending a poor little girl her clothes back. Sheesh!!!! I mean, I've been praying for almost a MONTH now.
Guilt trips and doubt: always effective negotiating tools.
And the teenage mother-daughter fireworks begin, right on cue.
January 5, 1991 (12 years old) - I thought up a story when I was on my paper route. I'm going to write it down since it was a pretty good story.
The Ice Ghost
This is not a true story. But it is a love story.
I'll spare you the middle...here's the ending:
But who knows? I only know that I would not go to that grove for all the money in the earth. For Willie Brumnen died the very next day after he had visited the grove. Many have visited it since and all have died the next. And always at 12:00 noon. The End.
Yeah. Fiction isn't my strong point.
September 6, 1991 - I GOT MY PERIOD!!!
And then my mom told my dad, who waited until we were alone in the car on the way to some event to say gruffly, "So I hear you're a woman now," or something along those lines. I can't remember exactly what because I was so mortified I have blocked the details from my memory.
October 28, 1991 - Whoa, was I ever a funny little kid when I was little. I just read some of my old diaries. I sure was weird.
Still are, hon. Still are.
Next up...the teenage years. Dum dum dum.