find my inner child

I’m going away in the morning. I’m headed down south – south Jersey that is – to Borgata Casino in Atlantic City. I got comp’d for a night. I’m not a high-roller – far from it, I play penny slots – but I’ve lost and I’ve won, so they want me back.

Fine with me. Free night plus tix to the Comedy Club. I’ll gamble (I’m compulsive that way) but I want to put my money to better use this time. I’ve already booked a massage for Monday and may partake in another spa treatment on Sunday.

A nice dinner…time alone…a “play date”...with me.

I woke up this morning to the sound of something…sort of rain, sort of sleet. When I looked out my window, I saw the ground was white – SNOW! Yay! But not for long…it was getting warmer and would soon be washed away.

I love snow. I don’t care if it’s wet snow, heavy snow or light snow….I love snow. I knew I couldn’t go out and play in it since I kind of have a commitment called a job…but I had to get my “fix”. And I knew how.

My car is parked in a covered space but my folk’s car isn’t. When I went down to my car, I cleaned off their car…and the cars on either side of them.

I didn’t have to be there for their reaction, I knew what they’d say…”Fran struck again!”.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

I shared this morning under “Get in touch with my inner child day” that I still have my first real book and that I read it this morning.

My parents always tell the story that my 1st grade teacher told them during a parent-teacher conference that I was a slow reader and in her infinite wisdom, extrapolated that into to “Frances is a little slow”.

Thankfully, my parents got angry. They started to read to me constantly. They bought this little book and we read it every night..over and over….and over…and over.

When I opened the book this morning and read the first page “I have a cat in a box”, I had a big grin on my face. Page 2 was “The box is on a chair”. Page 3 “The chair is in a room”. You can see where this story is going…..

Reading the entire book brought back a good feeling. I remembered the time spent with my parents. I remembered how they instilled in me their love of reading. And I read ANYTHING now….I always have a book with me. I also think this book is why I love cats so much (an unforeseen benefit!)

I will be forever grateful for that teacher who, although totally off base, challenged my parents to bring out the reader in me.

They did good.

Yesterday I had a little family time with the folks,my sister and her 2 kids. We were sitting around the dining room table doing a little reminiscing. My sister wrote a really sweet “card” for my Dad’s recent 80th birthday (it reminded me of 43T!). She called it “46 things I remember about my Dad” and she listed 46 different memories (she’s 46).
Many of her memories are mine too – “walking” on my Dad’s feet (his size 13 feet), sitting on the porch during a T-storm, counting to 10 after seeing lightning to hear the thunder. I added a few myself: going to the drive-in in our PJ’s and getting to watch the movie from the roof of the station wagon, being pushed on the tire swing.
The more we came up with, the more we remembered.
A totally unexpected but totally fun afternoon of memories.

Recently, I’ve been spending time on FaceBook. Several weeks ago, I found a girl that lived in my neighborhood growing up but had moved away when we were 10 years old. Within a week, we found 2 other girls from our block. We all started posting pictures on FB from way-back-when. Talk about a flood of memories!
I suggested we plan a get-together and 1 of the “girls” has graciously offered to have us over for brunch in 3 weeks. She still lives in our home-town so we’ll probably also do a little tour around town. Our hostess and I are still local but the other 2 haven’t seen the town for decades.
I am so looking forward to hanging with these women – no longer the girls I grew up with but hopefully the women I’ll keep in my adult life.

Last Saturday, I got together with old friends – I say from high school but many of them I’ve know since we were 5 years old.

The more we all talked, the more memories came rushing out. Do you remember when Robert pee’d in his pants in 2nd grade? How about when Jeff’s braces got locked with some girl? We talked about sledding in the park, the Good Humor ice cream truck, our first cars, our first kiss, our first everything.

Not only was “Little Frannie” out having a great time but she cleary was joined by Little Eric, Little Barb, Jeffie and the rest of the gang. I love that these people know my life and my memories so well. It gives me the freedom to let my inner child come out and play like a kid again and not think twice about it.
And I love that THEY seem to love it as much as I do.

Thanks to RONF’s creative goal, I have a “date” with “little Frannie” on the 8th of every month.

I’m looking forward to what my inner child and her “playmates” get into!

I’ve been reading the diaries on and off. My first thought was…boring! I wrote like it was fact sheet: how late I slept, what I had for dinner, who called me, who sat with me in study hall (the diaries start with 7th-8th grade). Where was the drama? The teen-age angst? Then I remembered…I had none.

Really, I didn’t. My teenage years were pretty calm. I grew up in the suburbs of NJ in the 60’s-70’s. Pretty tame stuff. I never thought of myself as popular, like the A list, I think I was on the B list. Nice, well liked, good student. Like I said…boring.

I was involved in planning my high school reunion last year (I won’t say which…but it was more than 20). It was 2 years planning and I became very close to those on the committee plus others that are local. We get together often and have a great time.

What I love about seeing them is that they view me differently than how I view myself. While I may not have all of the same memories as them (don’t forget my boring experiences), we come from the same place, the same town. They “knew me when” – I’ve known some of these people as far back as kindergarten!

When I get together with them, my inner child comes out. She doesn’t think about grown up stuff – just “do you remember riding our bikes to Van Saun Park in the rain?”. She remembers these adults as her friends and enjoys herself. I just need to figure out a way to keep her around longer….

I spent the afternoon cleaning out the closet in my new den. I pulled out a few boxes marked “keep this”- you know, the things you think you’ll always want or need from your past. I didn’t get thru the box because right on top, I found a bag. I knew what was in the bag – my diaries, 5 of them. Remember diaries? Little books with a lock and key. The oldest is from 1972. Long time ago.
My first entry wasn’t until January 31st and it said “Today we got our report cards. English=B, Science=B, Math=A, Social Studies=B, Spanish=B, Art=A, Music=A, Cooking=A, Phys Ed=B, Health=A”. What shocked me the most was I got an A in Cooking?! What cooking? We made pigs-in-blankets!
I didn’t finish going thru them, I wanted to get the closet back together. But I took the diaries out and will sit and read them when I have a time. I THINK I’m looking forward to what’s in there…

Do I mean learning to be care-free like a child? Or maybe learning to be open and inquisitive? Or maybe I mean learning, as an adult,to deal with things I carried with me from childhood?
Example: Today, Mom was over helping me with something. While waiting for me, she went into my room to see the cat (he loves his grandma!) She saw my bedroom closet was open and I heard her say “What the heck do you have up there?”. Now, it wasn’t really a question. It was said in a negative tone and what she didn’t say next was “you have too much crap and get rid of it”. I could have just let her say it. I could have made excuses for it. But instead, I called her on it. I said “Mom, get out of my room please. It’s my closet, my stuff. I don’t need you telling me to clean it out – I’m not 10 years old”. I said it very nicely – but firm. She said she didn’t mean anything, she was just asking. “No, Mom, you were judging…”. She said one or 2 other things later as we were moving some things out of the room that needs to be painted and I stopped her cold. Again, “Mom, it’s my home…my stuff”.
I love my mother. And I know she can’t help it – that’s her way and I accept it. But I will no longer allow “her way” to make me feel like a child who’s not measuring up to her standards anymore.
I think today my inner child listened and is happy with the adult me.