My mother sent a bunch of my old school records and baby book pages this weekend. Which, because I'm a fair person, I will publically say it was quite decent of her to send them.
Anyway, according to my baby book, I was a clumsy child, frequently in need of a 'mayonaid' (bandaid). And I said that I liked my dolls "lota bunch" and my favorite saying was, "Jesse did it."
I was a very large baby at 10 lbs, 12 1/2 oz, and when I was born, I was my great-grandmother's 102nd great grandchild. Ironically, she is the only extended family member to ever spell my name correctly.
But of course, even I went through a period of writing all my 's' backwards, according to the name signed on this picture of a house, surrounded by happy flowers.
There is a small card from my Gramie Dude to me, written at my birth, thanking me for choosing this family to live in. I scoffed as I read it, but then at the end when she promised to always be my loving Gramie, I realized that maybe the idea that I would choose this family wasn't so far-fetched as all that.
There are some pictures from Sunday school that I should scan, a classic VJ moment, there is a card to my parents with a picture that was supposed to show how we all made friends, and the only friend I'm hugging is my treasured blankie.
There is another picture of me, in a mother's day card. I am posed against some flowers, and the card frames me in a butterfly shape, and you cannot imagine a more pissed off look on my face. I am sucking my thumb and look like I'm plotting evil deaths for everyone around me. Incidently, my hair looks fantastic in that picture.
My mother notes in my baby book at age two that I've named my shoes, and expressed confusion at how comman my name is.
Photos of my dedication show that I have to be handed off to my mother because I won't stop wrestling the mike away from the pastor.
There is a letter written to my Tiny Gramie, suggesting that if 'something happened' to one of the families next door, then she could live there.
I laughed at 2 weeks, and haven't paused much since then.
Most of my first words were animals.
Some things never change, my first best friend was named David, my favorite toy was a telephone, I lived on fruit, and I said "hi" to every object I came across.
Wow, what a disturbing little overachiever I was. *puts down test results* Why didn't someone tell me to get a life?
Oh, this is priceless. The schools yearly reports on me.
"[Valancy Jane] made a flag for her 'special club'."
"Only trouble with reading is limiting it, to prevent eyestrain."
"She loves to tell jokes and funny stories."
"[Valancy Jane] enjoys talking with EVERYONE."
"[Valancy Jane] reads with a pleasant voice."
"She designs and sews clothes for her stuffed animals."
"She struggles with fears of not knowing enough."
Only about a million times is it suggested that I keep a journal. I like to think they recognized a future blogger.
The best part of the whole bag?
A flip book I made in science at about 11 years old, of a monster eating a man. At the end, the monster burbs and smiles happily. I'm going to carry this book around in my wallet, it's a dose of instant giggles.
Anyway, according to my baby book, I was a clumsy child, frequently in need of a 'mayonaid' (bandaid). And I said that I liked my dolls "lota bunch" and my favorite saying was, "Jesse did it."
I was a very large baby at 10 lbs, 12 1/2 oz, and when I was born, I was my great-grandmother's 102nd great grandchild. Ironically, she is the only extended family member to ever spell my name correctly.
But of course, even I went through a period of writing all my 's' backwards, according to the name signed on this picture of a house, surrounded by happy flowers.
There is a small card from my Gramie Dude to me, written at my birth, thanking me for choosing this family to live in. I scoffed as I read it, but then at the end when she promised to always be my loving Gramie, I realized that maybe the idea that I would choose this family wasn't so far-fetched as all that.
There are some pictures from Sunday school that I should scan, a classic VJ moment, there is a card to my parents with a picture that was supposed to show how we all made friends, and the only friend I'm hugging is my treasured blankie.
There is another picture of me, in a mother's day card. I am posed against some flowers, and the card frames me in a butterfly shape, and you cannot imagine a more pissed off look on my face. I am sucking my thumb and look like I'm plotting evil deaths for everyone around me. Incidently, my hair looks fantastic in that picture.
My mother notes in my baby book at age two that I've named my shoes, and expressed confusion at how comman my name is.
Photos of my dedication show that I have to be handed off to my mother because I won't stop wrestling the mike away from the pastor.
There is a letter written to my Tiny Gramie, suggesting that if 'something happened' to one of the families next door, then she could live there.
I laughed at 2 weeks, and haven't paused much since then.
Most of my first words were animals.
Some things never change, my first best friend was named David, my favorite toy was a telephone, I lived on fruit, and I said "hi" to every object I came across.
Wow, what a disturbing little overachiever I was. *puts down test results* Why didn't someone tell me to get a life?
Oh, this is priceless. The schools yearly reports on me.
"[Valancy Jane] made a flag for her 'special club'."
"Only trouble with reading is limiting it, to prevent eyestrain."
"She loves to tell jokes and funny stories."
"[Valancy Jane] enjoys talking with EVERYONE."
"[Valancy Jane] reads with a pleasant voice."
"She designs and sews clothes for her stuffed animals."
"She struggles with fears of not knowing enough."
Only about a million times is it suggested that I keep a journal. I like to think they recognized a future blogger.
The best part of the whole bag?
A flip book I made in science at about 11 years old, of a monster eating a man. At the end, the monster burbs and smiles happily. I'm going to carry this book around in my wallet, it's a dose of instant giggles.
1 Comments:
this makes me so happy that i honestly just want to sob for joy on your couch.
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