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Finding My Voice

Lolli — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 10:00:37 +0000

I was terribly quiet as a child.

I determined early in my teen years (when I was able to analyze myself a little) that my odd combination of self confidence and shyness did not give most people a good impression of me. I’ve always been quiet, but not in a timid, self-conscious way. I just prefer to sit back and quietly observe.

My mind, unfortunately, works quite a bit faster than my tongue, and I consistently find myself coming up with the ideal response or the perfect comeback long after a conversation is over. So I chose to be quiet.

Because I often had a hard time expressing myself with my voice, I had to find another way to get all of my ideas, emotions, and opinions OUT. I might have been quiet, but I always had so much to share, and it drove me crazy when I couldn’t adequately express what I was thinking and feeling.

I started keeping a journal when I was 8, and continued journaling regularly until after I had kids. I began writing stories and poems a short time later. I found my voice through the written word.

When I liked a boy at school, I wrote him a note.

When my best friend and I had an argument, I wrote her a letter with my grievances.

I was an avid pen pal, developing long-distance relationships with other kids that I had only met once.

When I became a mom, I started scrapbooking and kept a picture-and-story history of each of my children as I watched them grow from baby to big kid.

I wouldn’t have known it back then, but I was preparing all my life to be a blogger. This is what I do. I write. I express. I share.

I found my voice many years ago through the written word, but it wasn’t until I began blogging that my voice could be heard by others.

And I love that.

Bed Bugs

Lolli — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 17:09:22 +0000

No, I’m not talking about the bed bug epidemic. I’m talking about the overwhelming, paralyzing fear of finding bugs and spiders in my bed at night. I don’t often talk about my childhood fear of bugs in my bed. In fact, my fear of bugs in my bed is one of those topics that I prefer to forget about.

I spent a lot of time as a little girl running around outside. I wasn’t concerned about getting dirt on my hands, and I actually enjoyed collecting rollie pollies and ladybugs and other harmless and cute bugs. As long as I was wearing shoes, and as long as the spider was below neck level, I didn’t mind squashing the occasional spider in the house to protect a younger sibling.

I’m not sure how my “bug dreams” started. I had a lot of trouble sleeping when I was younger and would often lay in bed for what seemed like hours, doze off, and then be jolted awake. It was always during those few moments of dozing off that I would have my half-awake, half-asleep bug dreams. I would imagine that I had opened my eyes, and above my head I would see spiders – sometimes dozens of them, sometimes just one big, hairy spider – descending toward my head. In the dark, I would cover my head and leap away, waving my arms for protection, and then flick on the bedroom lights. I never found a spider after one of those dreams, but I could never go back to sleep until I had searched my entire bed, under and in between covers and pillows. I would sleep with a sheet over my head.

I had enough of those bug dreams that checking my bed for bugs before going to sleep became a nighttime ritual.

I once told my mom about my bug dreams, and she admitted to having them before as well. Once, she swatted at a spider in a dream only to awaken when she really felt something. She turned the lights on and found a large spider on the ground next to her bed. Her story certainly didn’t help cure me of my fear of bugs in my bed.

I had the dreams less frequently as I got older, but they didn’t go away. Even as a married adult, I would thrash in bed and turn the lights on and scare CandyMan to death until I told him that I had simply had another one of my bug dreams. My sister didn’t help, either, when she shared a story about one of the first apartments she shared with her husband. She also woke to the feeling that there were bugs descending over her head. When she turned the lights on, she discovered the ceiling crawling with newly-hatched baby spiders. They spent the night in the car after that discovery.

I don’t remember the last time I had a bug dream. I’ll count it up to Mommy fatigue. Spiders are simply too small to awaken me anymore.

However, I admit I still put my shoes on before squashing a spider…..

That’s my bug story. Ready to share yours? The fabulous ladies at 5 Minutes for Mom are hosting a contest right now (until Tuesday, May 3) for two $500 Walmart gift cards, thanks to Raid. Hurry over to 5M4M’s Bug Story to share your story and enter to win (who couldn’t use an extra $500??). Plus, Susan’s Hawaiian cockroach story is totally worth the read.

This post has been sponsored by Raid’s Build a Bug Barrier — Raid Max® Bug Barrier creates a barricade around your home preventing 8 different types of insects from coming indoors. The story is true and all the words are mine. Unfortunately. The spider graphic is from Microsoft Office clipart online. He was a little less creepy than a real spider picture.

The High School Years

Lolli — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 04:12:13 +0000

I’ve been recording my youth once a week for the last few months, and I have finally come to the last week, where I’ll talk a little about my memories from high school.

My 17th birthday

School

My family moved during my sophomore year, so I went to two high different schools. I think the biggest disappointment of my high school career was spending an entire year as the underdog on campus, and then moving to a school that started in 10th grade. I had to spend another half a year as the youngest at school.

As much as I loved California and my school there, I thrived at my new high school in Oregon. Not only did I meet some fabulous friends, but I immediately got involved in the counseling office – something that changed my entire high school focus and almost effected my future career choice.

One of my most vivid memories of my classes in high school was when my 9th grade English teacher handed out the textbooks for the semester and I recognized the book from 6th grade. My 6th grade teacher had told our class that we were “really advanced” and doing “high school level work” but I had honestly thought she was trying to make us feel good about ourselves….. Until I saw our book in my high school English class.

I did well in school and liked it for the most part. School was easy for me. I graduated with a 3.82 GPA and was accepted in the first round to the only college I applied to (BYU).

Friends

Sometime before my 10th grade year, my family found out that we would be moving to Oregon. Since I have always been a reserved and introverted person, I was not thrilled about investing a lot of time in building new relationships when I could be moving out of state any day. What we thought was an “any day” move turned out to be a 6 month wait, and we didn’t leave for Oregon until April. I spent the first half of my sophomore year hanging out with old friends who had changed more than I liked. The fact was, they were doing things I didn’t want to be involved in but I didn’t know how to start over.

Luckily, I was able to meet some incredible friends in Oregon, and spent the next 2 1/2 years going to dances and parties and sleep overs and just hanging out with the most positive, uplifting group of friends I could have hoped for. I had a huge crush on one of the guys in our group (the secret is revealed in the dance pictures below). We were very good friends but nothing ever came of the crush.

Seminary

In 9th grade, I started attending early morning seminary at church. I woke up long before the sun and my mom dropped me off at another family’s house, where I hopped in their dad’s old bare-bones jeep to go to the church together. As hard as it was to get used to being somewhere at 6 in the morning (and being coherent and dressed for the day) I loved seminary. When I moved to Oregon, they had a building right next to our school that we were able to use for mid-day seminary classes. Gone were the days of waking up at 5:00! I never complained. I ended up being asked to be the class president (over 6 classes) in 12th grade.

The Counseling Office

Since I moved to Oregon in the middle of the year, I was put in the counseling office during an empty hour as a helper there. I clicked so perfectly with all of the counselors, as well as the head secretary, Hazel, that I signed on to help out in the counseling office for the rest of high school. I was even hired as a summer employee at the school and was in charge of reorganizing and cleaning up the school’s entire collection of transcripts. When a college or employer or former student called in, I was the one in charge of locating, copying, and administering the official school stamp. Then I would send the transcript off to the requester. I loved the responsibility. Hazel called me a few times while I was at college to ask where she could find certain things–that’s how well I knew that office.

It was while I was working in the counseling office that I decided that I would like to study to become a guidance counselor. It only took me a year in college to realize that that was not something I wanted to do…..but the fact that I chose guidance counselor as my first official career choice is a testament to how much the counselors meant to me.

What are some of your memories from high school?

Kindred Spirits

Lolli — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 16:50:08 +0000

I’m recording my youth, one year per week. This week I’m talking about life in the 8th grade (age 13).

I can’t think of eighth grade without thinking of Amy. As cheesy as Anne Shirley’s term “kindred spirits” might be, it really is the best description of the kind of relationship Amy and I had. Sometimes it was spooky how connected Amy and I were. We could finish each other’s thoughts. She would call me when I had my hand on the phone to dial her number. We spent every minute possible together, and if we weren’t together then we were either on the phone or writing each other letters. I met Amy in 7th grade and by 8th grade we were BFFs (even though that term didn’t exist back then).

I have too many memories with Amy to list. Strangely, one of the memories that sticks out in my mind (though this memory was probably later than 8th grade) was stopping by a store to buy some candy together. Apparently, I payed for the candy, and the cashier responded “Oh, letting Big Sister pay today?” to Amy. We laughed and laughed about that, because Amy was 11 months older than I was.

Amy and I had lots of adventures together, including getting concert tickets and back stage passes to the Bon Jovi New Jersey concert. The concert was amazing, but wearing those backstage passes was one of the greatest thrills I’d ever experienced. We waited backstage after the concert for quite a while, cameras ready. Finally, an official-looking guy came into the room and let us know that the band would not be joining us backstage that night. They were celebrating Jon’s very recent wedding privately (apparently, he got married the day before). What a let-down!

I moved away in the middle of 10th grade, but Amy and I continued to talk and write letters for years. We don’t live in houses next door to each other with connected back yards, but we are both mothers of five kids and still kindred spirits.

Who was your best friend growing up?

Boy Crazy

Lolli — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 01:30:51 +0000

I’m recording my youth, one year per week. This week I’m talking about life in the 7th grade (age 12).

As a mother of daughters in the 6th and 9th grades, it is a little disconcerting to think back on my middle school and high school years. Granted, like my own daughters, I was a good kid and rarely got into trouble. However, by the time I entered the seventh grade, I was officially boy crazy.

I remember spending a good portion of my time, both in and out of school, thinking and dreaming about my latest crushes. I wrote and passed lots of notes (yes, I would have been a big texter if cell phones had been around in the late 80s). Because I never acted on my crushes at this age (in other words, my crushes lived only in my dreams and notes), they tended to last for a long time. I also had a tendency to become really good friends with the boys I liked, which worked both for and against me. On one hand, I had a lot of time with the boys I liked. They liked me….well enough to confide in me and tell me who they were crushing on….

At the beginning of my 7th grade year, my family had moved to a new home and I had left my childhood home and elementary school behind for a new start. I loved my new house and my new school, but I especially loved feeling like I was growing up. With a bedroom all to myself, a new type of school to attend, and a new set of friends to spend my time with, I felt like I had the world at my fingertips. After I turned 12, I was given permission to start wearing limited make-up (blue eye liner and mascara were a particular favorite), and I distinctly remember the day during the Summer after 7th grade when my friend and I went to the County Fair together. The children’s admission price was good for children up to 12 years, and so I told the lady at the ticket booth that I was 12 (in fact, it was several months before I was to turn 13). Not only did the lady not believe me, but she said, “If you’re really 12, you should have left your make up at home!” and made me pay the adult admission price. My mom was so upset when I told her at the end of the day that she took me back to the ticket booth and complained til we were given the difference back. Remember that, Mom?

My youngest sister was born the summer between 6th grade and 7th grade (right before our move) and I remember feeling like a little mommy to her, since I was old enough then to babysit and really help Mom out. I loved having another baby sister! My sister S, who was just 4 years younger than me, and I were taking piano lessons together, and we were able to play several duets together during the year.

When did you start wearing make-up, and were you as boy-crazy as I was in 7th grade?

Moving On

Lolli — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 02:29:36 +0000

The house I grew up in

As much as I loved my elementary school and as much as I loved the friends and the home I’d grown up with, when sixth grade rolled around I was ready to move on.

In 1986, my family found a house in Pleasanton, California, just 45 minutes from San Jose, where I had spent the previous 8 years. I only remember excitement regarding my move to Pleasanton. I’m sure there was some fear and a good deal of sadness about leaving my friends behind. But any anxieties I might have had about moving were over-shadowed by the thrill of moving on, moving up, and starting over.

I have good memories of my house in San Jose; don’t get me wrong. But isn’t it funny that all these years later, the memories of my house that stand out most to me are the less-than-positive ones?

I remember when I accidentally shut the heavy garage door on my brother. I also remember looking for the bat in the garage every time I passed under the storage area.
I remember being nervous to go to the bathroom in the downstairs bathroom because there was a door to the backyard right next to the toilet. Many a nightmare had it’s origin in that bathroom.
I remember that the woven grass wallpaper (grasscloth?) was fascinating, if rather uncomfortable and itchy. And ugly. Pincher bugs loved to hide in the grass. I spent hours staring at it and picking loose pieces of grass off the wall. I’ve never seen anything quite like that wallpaper in all my years since.
I was terrified that the Hells Angels were going to drive into my court at night and climb up the low roof into my 2nd story front bedroom. We lived right next to a very busy highway, with a railroad track on the other side, so there were many vehicle noises at all hours of the night.
I can point to the exact spot on the front lawn where I slipped while trying to kick a soccer ball….and ended up with a cracked tail bone. Ouch!
I can still picture the men from the power company fixing the breaker in our back yard. We had many power outages and many worker crews in our back yard.
I remember right where my bus stop was, but if I tried to find my elementary school now, I would get hopelessly lost. I’m sure it wasn’t that far away, but it felt like it was in another city.
I remember the quilts that were on the twin beds that my sister and I had in the room we shared. And I remember getting bunk beds and loving my top bunk.

But the thrill of bunk beds was nothing compared to the news that in my new house, I would get my own room (a huge deal for the oldest of five children).

Following are some photos from my 6th grade year, 6th grade graduation, and my first year of Girl’s Camp at the fabulous Camp Ritchie.

What do you recall about the house that you grew up in?

I’m recording my youth, one year per week. Come back next week to find out what life was like in 7th grade (age 12).

Stretching: School Secretary, a Soccer player, and a Swimmer

Lolli — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 03:00:36 +0000

My fifth grade year was a year for stretching. Having spent the good part of my childhood in ballet, when my schedule suddenly opened up, I decided to fill it up with new things. I signed up for a soccer team and found out that I stunk at soccer and didn’t really enjoy team sports at all.

I also thought I’d give swimming a try. I loved to be in the water, but I had never been much of a swimmer. Apparently, that wasn’t meant to be, either. I swam decently but I could not get myself to dive, and so I was stuck as an Advanced Class flunky.

I took stretching to a whole new level in fifth grade. I had always been one of the shortest in my class since kindergarten, but in 5th grade I shot up in height and moved from the front row of the class picture to almost the back row (that’s me in the pink jump suit in the next to last row, with my horrible pre-teen hairdo. I grew so much that year that I still have the stretch marks to prove it. Sam, my first kiss, was still in the front (wearing the soccer ball shirt). I bet he was glad he kissed me before I was half a foot taller than him.

Fifth grade was my first year in Mrs Smith’s 5th and 6th grade combined G.A.T.E. class. Mrs. Smith stretched us more than any other teacher that I had encountered before or after. As much as we all swore that we couldn’t stand her and hated how hard her class was, we all truthfully loved it (and her). We were a big family, and not just because we were together for longer than the usual class.

My dad was one of our frequent guest teachers/workshops. He spoke all about Guatemala and El Salvador, where he had lived for 2 years {many years before} as a missionary. I was so proud to have him in my class!

The last 5th grade stretch was a big one for me. The once terrifyingly shy little girl had grown–both in inches and in confidence. I decided that I would run for student leadership. I campaigned (and made all flyers, posters, and buttons by hand) and ended up winning the election for student government secretary.

I’m recording my youth, one year per week. Come back next week to find out what life was like in 6th grade (age 11).

Off to See the Wizard

Lolli — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 11:00:12 +0000

Me as a Poppy in the Wizard of Oz ballet production, 1984

My life in 4th grade were composed mostly of three main things: ballet, piano, and writing.

I never considered myself a stellar piano player. I could read music and play the notes, and that’s about it. I loved writing stories, though, and considered story telling one of my childhood talents. My favorite story was entitled “The Alligator and the Eight Children” and ended with all eight siblings in the story falling off a bridge and being eaten by a hungry alligator. I was so proud of that book. I was also thrilled when my story, “My Friend,” was recognized at my elementary school and I was selected to attend a children’s writer’s conference at DeAnza College.

As much as I loved it, by the time I was nine ballet was beginning to take over my life. I had auditioned for the studio’s traveling company and was accepted into the exclusive group. I was in lessons (including alternate days of flaminco dancing) six days a week and was transitioning early to pointe.

My mom asked me during that year if I loved ballet enough to make it my life focus–a huge thing for a nine year old to have to decide. The road I was heading down was the road of a professional ballerina. I had no time left over for being social – for being a kid. I was already at the studio most of the week, and it was only going to get busier.

I chose to quit altogether.

I felt a tinge of regret for leaving ballet behind for many years. In fact, it wasn’t until my junior year of college that I had a sense of closure and peace about ballet. I decided I would revisit my dancing days and enrolled in a ballet class. While I did very well, I no longer loved it. I finished the class and was finally able to close the book on my ballet days.

Granted, ballet is still part of me and always will be. I will probably always do Pliés and leg exercises while I’m brushing my teeth.

I’m recording my youth, one year per week. Come back next week to find out what life was like in 5th grade (age 10).

Statement of an Adoptive Parent

Lolli — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 10:00:22 +0000

Statement of Adoptive Parent
April 8, 1983

I desire to adopt Laura for several reasons. The foremost reason is that I have come to love Laura as I love my own children. I am concerned for her welfare and well being. I share her joys of success and sadness of failure. Another reason for her adoption is that I want to support Laura in a legal sense but also in an emotional sense. I want her to know that she is a part of our family as are our other children. I want her to be aware of my commitment to her, both legal and emotional.

Laura is a beautiful child. She is pretty and intelligent. She is fully aware that she has two fathers (her natural father died when she was 2 1/2 years old). His death was sad and is difficult for her to understand though time has helped her reorder her life. I want to complete her family order and continue the healing process that has helped her to feel secure and loved. I request that I be allowed to adopt Laura and care for her as my own.

~My Dad

This is the chapter of my life that I’ve been waiting to write about. The year that I turned eight was life-changing for me. Not only was I baptized, but I was adopted by my dad. For the beginning of our story, see my previous post, What I Don’t Remember.

I do remember being adopted. I remember the excitement of taking a day off school to drive down to meet with the judge. I remember him asking me questions and my parents signing papers. I remember taking pictures outside the courthouse before heading back home. I remember that I felt very loved.

I still do.

I’m sure my eighth year was full of exciting things (like my baptism and the birth of my sister, Andrea) but none stand out in my mind as vividly as the day I was adopted.

Is there a moment in your youth that stands out as one of the most important days of your life?

I’m recording my youth, one year per week. Come back next week to find out what life was like in 4th grade (age nine).

PS–Today I am guest posting over at Live and Love…Out Loud. If you’ve never visited Kristi’s blog, you’ve got to stop by today and check it out. A fellow mother of many (four!) and lover of photography…..I adore Kristi! You should follow her on twitter (@Tweetingmama), too. Plus, I had a lot of fun writing my Pros and Cons of Parenting Tweens and Teens. I’ll feel extra special if you leave me a comment over there today. Thanks!

My Name is Laura. I’m 7 Years Old.

Lolli — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 10:00:48 +0000

Excerpt from a short diary I kept when I was seven years old (in the 2nd grade):

My name is Laura. I live in San Jose. I’m 7 years old. I’m in 2nd grade. My teachers are Mrs Wong and Mrs Fenner. Mrs Wong’s name before she was married was Miss Ong, so she just had to add a “W.”

I like art time. And I like recess, too. I like my teachers because they are nice and they play games with us. I like lunch time and math too.

My friends are Elizabeth, Cabrelle, Amy, Jennifer, Julie L, Julie D, Danielle, Brandi, Brandy, Jennifer E, Elisa, Mark, Henry, Mai, Gopi, Gina, Brian C, Brian W, Gary, Mark, and Diego.

On Monday I go to Ballet. My teacher is Gloria. On Wednesday I have sharing, mouth wash, and music. On Thursdays I got to motor perception. We go under things and walk on a balance beam and do a lot of stuff on it. We do rolls on a mat and pretend to be animals.

My favorite book is “You’re Barking Up the Wrong Tree, Snoopy.”

My mom told me that I always look down at the ground when I walk. She said some day I would find a dollar bill. On December 10, 1982 I was playing on the playground and I found 5 dollars! I turned it in to the office and Mrs Cruz said, “If no one claims it you can have it next Friday the 17th.” And I got it the next Friday the 17th.

Wednesday was “mouth wash day” in school? How random! Strange that I included mouth wash but not Show and Tell or other similarly more exciting bits of my schedule.

Life was pretty simple in second grade. Ballet was a huge part of my life. I was more mature and getting better at dance, but it had not yet become the six-days-a-week psycho ballet of the next year and a half.

I love looking back at the things that I recorded in my diary and considered important. Like the fact that I listed twenty one friends. I suppose I wanted to include everyone in my list so that no one would get upset. (I was a born pleaser) The truth is, Elizabeth was my best friend. With our imaginations, we had many adventures together.

Seven may just be one of the first years that I started forming solid memories. I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that I started writing when I was seven. I can remember deciding to have a Halloween-themed birthday party. And I can remember playing on the beach (and a particularly large rock just beyond the shore line in Lake Tahoe). Since we spent every Summer at Lake Tahoe, it’s hard for me to differentiate between one summer and another. I do, however, remember the big rock being perfectly uncovered the summer when I was seven. Sometimes the water level was either too low or too high for the rock to be enjoyable. That year, it was perfect.

Did you have a traditional vacationing spot, too, or did you visit lots of places every Summer like my family does now?

I’m recording my youth, one year per week. Come back next week to find out what life was like in 3rd grade (age eight). Memories start to get more specific from now on!

PS–my mom still has that Strawberry Shortcake bowl hat I received for my 7th birthday and we use it every time we visit her. The kids love the size, but they’ll love it even more when I show them this picture of when it was new.