For the youngest in the family, the hits just keep coming
Being the lowest kid on the totem pole, I had my share of childhood trauma. The first injustice I suffered at the hands of my older siblings was when I was just a baby. My oldest sister was playing with me on the couch. She was holding me up by my hands and somehow flipped me over. When she heard my little shoulders pop, she just put me down on the couch and yelled, “Mom, the baby is crying,” and walked away.
Luckily, there was no permanent damage. Except for the fact that I can’t put on my coat by myself, but thats necessarily a bad thing.
Fast forward a few years to the third grade. I had a pink blankie that I loved. Admittedly, I was a little too old for it. I also had the habit of leaving it around the house. My mom got tired of tripping over it all the time so she told my siblings to hide it from me if they saw it laying around. She thought that would teach me to leave my blanket on my bed where it belonged.
My sister just older than me found it one day and decided to hide it in the wood-burning stove. She allegedly thought the stove was cold. Little did she know there were still some hot coals underneath the ashes.
A few hours later, I noticed my blankie was missing and I couldn’t find it anywhere. My mom then told me about the assignment she had given my siblings. After a teary-eyed and desperate phone call to my sister, who was spending the night at a friends house, I found out the location of my dear blankie. I dropped the phone and ran to the wood-burning stove. I swung open the doors to find my once pink and soft blankie, now charred and smoldering. I screamed in horror, “IT’S CRISPY!”
Sadly, I’ve never fully recovered from that incident. I still sneak my daughters blanket whenever I feel the need for a little extra comfort.
Not only did I suffer at the hands of my older sisters, but my brother, too. Summer 1986: He was 18 and I was 13. He wanted to watch the U.S. Open. I wanted to watch Days of our Lives. So, I took the remote control and shoved it down my shirt. He then picked me up, turned me upside down and without a lot of effort, held me by my ankles and shook me until the remote fell out. Unfortunately for me, we were in the basement. The only thing between my head and the concrete was a thin layer of carpet. That incident landed me in the emergency room with a mild concussion.
So, if you meet me on the street someday and I can’t seem to remember your name, don’t judge me too harshly. Im the youngest child in my family and Im still feeling the effects of that summer when Bo and Hope lost to Martina Navratilova.[photopress:sibling_totem.jpg,full,1]