1996:
Dear Young One,
Personally, I like "young one" much less than I like "little one", but it didn't really feel right to call you "little one" anymore, so congrats on leveling up, I guess.
I'm not going to lie to you, second grade is a little bit of a bum deal. You don't really get along with your teacher, and very few of the friends that you made last year are in your class, which is a real bummer, as you met some really cool people, particularly GGKK, whom you will be friends with for the rest of your life. (But we'll get to her later -- you don't really start hanging out until next year).
There's also CB, whom you met in Brownies (that's right -- you, my dear girl, are briefly a girl scout, for all the good it does you) and who teaches you spunk and joy. In fact, CB was probably the only positive thing to come out of Brownies. The skills you are taught are about as useful as a 50s infomercial for women, most of your friendships formed there are as cohesive as oil and water, and you constantly make royal fools of yourself in public performance. Your troop disbands after only 2 years, and you never make it to Junior Scout.
This is also the time of some very weird family dynamics. Your mom's side of the family is almost never talked about, and then suddenly they appear in your life, much to your discomfort. They seem to arrival piecemeal over a pretty short time span, as if this is the time that they've been allowed to visit. Grandparents, aunt (only one of 2, by the way. You have zero knowledge of the other until you get to high school), and uncle & cousin. Yup. One day, you will be at home and some strangers will also be there, and you just kind of have to accept that they are your uncle (mom's brother) and cousin. Your uncle is kind of a creeper, but he only stays a few hours. Your cousin, on the other hand, is there for like... 2 weeks or something. A semi-painful two weeks.
Your cousin D is something like 5+ years older than you, and honestly kind of a jerk at this age (he gets better with time). He strangles your stuffed animals, and "kills" your Gundams, but you still desperately try to be friends with him, because he's an older kid, and therefore he's cool. Also, he teaches you to play chess, so, like... trade-offs, I guess. Here's the thing, though -- no one explains to you why Cousin D is staying with your family. Your parents never really specifically tell you to be nice to him or make him feel at home, which, you know, it would have REALLY BEHOOVED THEM TO DO. Why? Because Cousin D's parents are getting a messy divorce, and he's staying with your family during the proceedings. You don't find out about this until nearly a decade later, and while this information might have not been totally pertinent for an eight-year-old to know, your parents are still really lucky that they never explicitly had to tell you, "Hey, maybe be extra nice to your cousin, even if he's kind of being a dick."
On the subject of problems being swept under the rug, this is the first year that you can recall your parents fighting during the holidays, specifically Thanksgiving. Now, this is certainly not their first fight, so certainly not your first rodeo when it comes to fading into the background when they get into it. However, it is the first time that you can recall it getting so bad and so long that they actually carry on into every room in the house. Quietly, you and your sister retreat to your room and shut the door to wait out the storm. Your sister is debating taking you over to her best friend's house to spend Turkey Day and the night, when suddenly you both hear a shout erupt from the other end of the hall, and your sister stops dead.
This is one of those times that you wish you could understand Mandarin. Or maybe not.
Quietly, so quietly, she murmurs, "I think Dad just said, 'Shut up, or I will kill you.'"
A few moments pass. Maybe a few minutes. Maybe 30 minutes. Mom and Dad will wander to your room and tell you that everything is ok.
Lies.
In school the next week, your teacher asks you to write a letter about Thanksgiving to your assigned pen-pal. Not knowing any better, you candidly jot down a line about your parents' row. Several days later, after editing the grammar and spelling in each letter, your teacher quietly asks you to add a line saying that "everything is better now."
And people wonder how you learned to lie so well.
It's not fair that you're taught so young to hold the pain in your chest. But if one, single small silver lining has come of this, it's that you know what it is to need a good listener, and whether or not you mean to, you become one for others. Pain shared is pain lessened, you will tell others in the future. I hope you learn it for yourself one day, too. Chin up.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Saturday, September 8, 2018
30 in 30: Year 7
1995:
Dear Little One,
I'm not sure how much longer you're really going to abide me calling you "little one", but at age 7, I'm afraid the moniker still sticks. I have to say though, you are growing up very quickly, and life is starting to pick up the pace. After all, you're in 1st grade now -- actual numbers to designate what year of school you're in. It's the big time, now.
This may come as a shock to many who know you later in life, but you're actually pretty garbage at school at this age. You kind of muck about when it comes to doing any actual homework, particularly math, and you are constantly getting into trouble for lack-of-personal-space reasons. Needless to say, transitioning from constant play time to actual proper classroom activities is a bit of a hurdle for you. But, you are a superstar when it comes to writing short stories, according to your student teacher (not everyone can write such a harrowing tale about a killer whale who is hated even by his own mother).
This is also a year of some wild social interactions for you. This year, a boy actual declares his crush for you. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttt. He's a nice kid, kinda dopey, but very well meaning. You play it pretty cool - a few stolen glances at lunch time, and poking each other during recess, but it starts getting way too serious too fast for you (he's giving you trinkets every day. Every day.) and you call it quits at your dad's behest (yeah, that's a trend that will carry through life.) Alas, you are but 7, and so your attempts to reject his affections are about as tactful as drill sergeant meeting a new recruit. Later in life, he'll become a death metal singer with angst issues. Naturally, you'll blame yourself, that despite your relationship only lasting three days, you were the catalyst for his blackened heart.
You also get into your first and only playground fight! During a game of tag, a group of boys from another class will join you, uninvited, and begin picking on just you. At first, it's just a few prods and pokes, but then they literally start corralling you and circling you like vultures. You have a choice here, kiddo: cower, or stand up for yourself. And, to my everlasting pride, you tell yourself, "F*ck this," and you aim a pretty sharp kick at the ringleader, landing just shy of his family jewels. I mean, with a last name like Beer Bomb, this guy is a natural born ass (yes, that is his actual name. No, that's not how you spell it.) The gang immediately scatters, and Beer Bomb freaks out and runs to tell the recess monitor on you. And you know what - not only do you have your actual friends backing you up, you win the monitor's sympathy. Rock on, little one.
Standing up for yourself is scary, and trust me - it doesn't always work to your benefit. You do it so rarely as you get older, the fire in your eye burning a little lower with each passing year. But whether or not it ends up working in your favor, you have a right to let people know how you feel, and having a voice should be reward enough. Chin up, little one.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
I'm not sure how much longer you're really going to abide me calling you "little one", but at age 7, I'm afraid the moniker still sticks. I have to say though, you are growing up very quickly, and life is starting to pick up the pace. After all, you're in 1st grade now -- actual numbers to designate what year of school you're in. It's the big time, now.
This may come as a shock to many who know you later in life, but you're actually pretty garbage at school at this age. You kind of muck about when it comes to doing any actual homework, particularly math, and you are constantly getting into trouble for lack-of-personal-space reasons. Needless to say, transitioning from constant play time to actual proper classroom activities is a bit of a hurdle for you. But, you are a superstar when it comes to writing short stories, according to your student teacher (not everyone can write such a harrowing tale about a killer whale who is hated even by his own mother).
This is also a year of some wild social interactions for you. This year, a boy actual declares his crush for you. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttt. He's a nice kid, kinda dopey, but very well meaning. You play it pretty cool - a few stolen glances at lunch time, and poking each other during recess, but it starts getting way too serious too fast for you (he's giving you trinkets every day. Every day.) and you call it quits at your dad's behest (yeah, that's a trend that will carry through life.) Alas, you are but 7, and so your attempts to reject his affections are about as tactful as drill sergeant meeting a new recruit. Later in life, he'll become a death metal singer with angst issues. Naturally, you'll blame yourself, that despite your relationship only lasting three days, you were the catalyst for his blackened heart.
You also get into your first and only playground fight! During a game of tag, a group of boys from another class will join you, uninvited, and begin picking on just you. At first, it's just a few prods and pokes, but then they literally start corralling you and circling you like vultures. You have a choice here, kiddo: cower, or stand up for yourself. And, to my everlasting pride, you tell yourself, "F*ck this," and you aim a pretty sharp kick at the ringleader, landing just shy of his family jewels. I mean, with a last name like Beer Bomb, this guy is a natural born ass (yes, that is his actual name. No, that's not how you spell it.) The gang immediately scatters, and Beer Bomb freaks out and runs to tell the recess monitor on you. And you know what - not only do you have your actual friends backing you up, you win the monitor's sympathy. Rock on, little one.
Standing up for yourself is scary, and trust me - it doesn't always work to your benefit. You do it so rarely as you get older, the fire in your eye burning a little lower with each passing year. But whether or not it ends up working in your favor, you have a right to let people know how you feel, and having a voice should be reward enough. Chin up, little one.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Friday, September 7, 2018
30 in 30: Year 6
1994
Dear Little One,
Oh boy is this a special year. Bill Clinton is in his 2nd year as president, Nelson Mandela is sworn in as President of South Africa, The Lion King is released in theatres (you see it on the big screen, and this also becomes the first time you see people crying during a movie, which is a totally foreign subject to you now, but will become waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay relevant down the line), and Jeff Bezos starts this teeny tiny little company called Amazon - like that's ever going to take off.
And, and, this is the first year that you start *real* school. So long pre-school, hello kindergarten. Another year, another slew of weird seminal life experiences that seem to mold you in totally bonkers ways. Your raw brattiness from ages 3-5 seem to have waned a little, and you're starting to be a little more conscientious of the world... sort of. Relatively, speaking, I guess. You're loud and have got no cap on your temper, you've got no problem saying what's on your mind (in only the way at 6-year-old can), and rules (particularly those concerning language and etiquette) seem totally arbitrary and ignorable. But, you're also surprisingly ladylike, polite, and courteous, and despite your total regard for using inappropriate language, you are weirdly particular about following rules about order and silence.
Kindergarten really is a playground for your creativity. You get to play with crafts and musical instruments, draw, read, and even carve the world's ugliest jack-o-lantern. You'll meet some really lovely people, like Lisle, who starts out as being a little bossy, but turns into one of your closest chums for the next year and a few months before she moves away. Through her, you'll learn that the highest form of praise is imitation. Collin and David, who remind you that there's nothing wrong with unbridled joy from time to time.
This is also the year that you learn that you are forgettable, and that sometimes you have to pick yourself up by the bootstraps.
You see, little one, you and three classmates going to be sent to the library to pick up some books. The library is a little bit of a distance from your classroom, and between the classroom and the library is a stairwell with two heavy doors. Whether it's because you're just slow, or because you had to tie your shoe, or maybe the rest of them were racing, you're going to be left behind, and when that happens, your finger is going to get trapped in one of the doors.
And it hurts. A lot.
You're going to cry and shout for help, but no one is going to hear. Not a teacher, not another student. You'll wonder how long it will take the others to realize that you are missing. They don't.
You'll fall silent when you realize that it's just you.
And then, you'll wipe the tears away, and with a little sniffle, you'll pull the door open by yourself. Your classmates haven't noticed your disappearance, and they don't understand why you are quiet and upset when you walk back downstairs.
More things than just your finger will hurt, little one.
And I wish that this didn't effect the way that it will. Children lack empathy and caring, and nothing that happened was your fault. But remember, that day you will have learned something important: sometimes the only one who can get you out of a situation is yourself. and you'll have passed that test, young one.
Chin up until tomorrow, little one. It'll all be ok.
Hearts and kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
Oh boy is this a special year. Bill Clinton is in his 2nd year as president, Nelson Mandela is sworn in as President of South Africa, The Lion King is released in theatres (you see it on the big screen, and this also becomes the first time you see people crying during a movie, which is a totally foreign subject to you now, but will become waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay relevant down the line), and Jeff Bezos starts this teeny tiny little company called Amazon - like that's ever going to take off.
And, and, this is the first year that you start *real* school. So long pre-school, hello kindergarten. Another year, another slew of weird seminal life experiences that seem to mold you in totally bonkers ways. Your raw brattiness from ages 3-5 seem to have waned a little, and you're starting to be a little more conscientious of the world... sort of. Relatively, speaking, I guess. You're loud and have got no cap on your temper, you've got no problem saying what's on your mind (in only the way at 6-year-old can), and rules (particularly those concerning language and etiquette) seem totally arbitrary and ignorable. But, you're also surprisingly ladylike, polite, and courteous, and despite your total regard for using inappropriate language, you are weirdly particular about following rules about order and silence.
Kindergarten really is a playground for your creativity. You get to play with crafts and musical instruments, draw, read, and even carve the world's ugliest jack-o-lantern. You'll meet some really lovely people, like Lisle, who starts out as being a little bossy, but turns into one of your closest chums for the next year and a few months before she moves away. Through her, you'll learn that the highest form of praise is imitation. Collin and David, who remind you that there's nothing wrong with unbridled joy from time to time.
This is also the year that you learn that you are forgettable, and that sometimes you have to pick yourself up by the bootstraps.
You see, little one, you and three classmates going to be sent to the library to pick up some books. The library is a little bit of a distance from your classroom, and between the classroom and the library is a stairwell with two heavy doors. Whether it's because you're just slow, or because you had to tie your shoe, or maybe the rest of them were racing, you're going to be left behind, and when that happens, your finger is going to get trapped in one of the doors.
And it hurts. A lot.
You're going to cry and shout for help, but no one is going to hear. Not a teacher, not another student. You'll wonder how long it will take the others to realize that you are missing. They don't.
You'll fall silent when you realize that it's just you.
And then, you'll wipe the tears away, and with a little sniffle, you'll pull the door open by yourself. Your classmates haven't noticed your disappearance, and they don't understand why you are quiet and upset when you walk back downstairs.
More things than just your finger will hurt, little one.
And I wish that this didn't effect the way that it will. Children lack empathy and caring, and nothing that happened was your fault. But remember, that day you will have learned something important: sometimes the only one who can get you out of a situation is yourself. and you'll have passed that test, young one.
Chin up until tomorrow, little one. It'll all be ok.
Hearts and kisses,
You.
Thursday, September 6, 2018
30 in 30: Year 5
1993:
Dear Little One,
Year Two of Great Beginnings: go!
So, yes, despite turning 5-years-old this year, you've been asked to stay in pre-school for another term. Darn cut-off months. The result of this is that you're going to be on the "older" end of all of your classmates each year, which in the grand scheme of things isn't a huge deal, but you are going to make a big fuss about it until you hit your 20s. Them's the breaks.
But to be fair, better a little older than a little too young. I'll be honest, Little One, you aren't super mature for your age. You are a little spoiled, and a little bit selfish, kind of still in that phase when you think that the world revolves around you. Don't worry, though, this second year will stomp the diva right out of you... sort of (she says while maintaining a blog). Not to mention, this is the year that you discover what it's like to have romantic feelings for another person for the first time (his name is Robbie, and he becomes a bit of a prat later in life, but for now, he's your Prince Charming).
Speaking of Prince Charmings, this is the year that you really begin to discover fairy tales, and boy does your imagination run wild with it. Remember: you've recently discovered Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland, and for some reason, this is your gateway to fairy princesses, which means this is around the time you become obsessed with (everyone say it with me now) B*tchin' Poofy Dresses.
Beauty and the Beast came out two years ago, and that really did a number on you, too. You and your sister will learn it, line for line (heck, you two even re-enact it sometimes. It is friggen adorable.) It is your favorite film for years, so much so that the ballroom scene inspires you to ask your sister's best friend and your first older-guy-crush to dance with you (shortly before you accidentally poke him in the eye and run away in embarrassment). Spoilers: this is the only time you've successfully asked a crush to dance with you, and I hate to break it to you, but you don't really become that much more elegant around romantic interests.
Around this time is the second stretch that Dad is gone for an extended period. After his time in Taiwan finishes up, he comes back for a spell, and then shortly moves down to Florida to take up a job at his old university. It's still a little confusing for you, but by now you're a little more old hat. And hey - family trip part 2! Pretty neat that you get to travel so much when you're young, huh?
Yeah. Always try to see the silver lining in life.
I know. Things are weird. You can't even really read properly yet, and you're already trying to write full blown letters to express everything that's on your undeveloped mind. But despite the fact that you still cry when you get your vaccines, and that small animals and babies scare you, you're a tough little nugget. And even though you can't appreciate it now, your sister and your mom are still there to look out for you as life begins to make more sense (as well as it can, anyhow.)
Chin up. Higher this time. You'll be ok.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
Year Two of Great Beginnings: go!
So, yes, despite turning 5-years-old this year, you've been asked to stay in pre-school for another term. Darn cut-off months. The result of this is that you're going to be on the "older" end of all of your classmates each year, which in the grand scheme of things isn't a huge deal, but you are going to make a big fuss about it until you hit your 20s. Them's the breaks.
But to be fair, better a little older than a little too young. I'll be honest, Little One, you aren't super mature for your age. You are a little spoiled, and a little bit selfish, kind of still in that phase when you think that the world revolves around you. Don't worry, though, this second year will stomp the diva right out of you... sort of (she says while maintaining a blog). Not to mention, this is the year that you discover what it's like to have romantic feelings for another person for the first time (his name is Robbie, and he becomes a bit of a prat later in life, but for now, he's your Prince Charming).
Speaking of Prince Charmings, this is the year that you really begin to discover fairy tales, and boy does your imagination run wild with it. Remember: you've recently discovered Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland, and for some reason, this is your gateway to fairy princesses, which means this is around the time you become obsessed with (everyone say it with me now) B*tchin' Poofy Dresses.
Beauty and the Beast came out two years ago, and that really did a number on you, too. You and your sister will learn it, line for line (heck, you two even re-enact it sometimes. It is friggen adorable.) It is your favorite film for years, so much so that the ballroom scene inspires you to ask your sister's best friend and your first older-guy-crush to dance with you (shortly before you accidentally poke him in the eye and run away in embarrassment). Spoilers: this is the only time you've successfully asked a crush to dance with you, and I hate to break it to you, but you don't really become that much more elegant around romantic interests.
Around this time is the second stretch that Dad is gone for an extended period. After his time in Taiwan finishes up, he comes back for a spell, and then shortly moves down to Florida to take up a job at his old university. It's still a little confusing for you, but by now you're a little more old hat. And hey - family trip part 2! Pretty neat that you get to travel so much when you're young, huh?
Yeah. Always try to see the silver lining in life.
I know. Things are weird. You can't even really read properly yet, and you're already trying to write full blown letters to express everything that's on your undeveloped mind. But despite the fact that you still cry when you get your vaccines, and that small animals and babies scare you, you're a tough little nugget. And even though you can't appreciate it now, your sister and your mom are still there to look out for you as life begins to make more sense (as well as it can, anyhow.)
Chin up. Higher this time. You'll be ok.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
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