Memoirs: Family memories – Part 1
Wow… family memories… where do I start? Well before I get into some of the greatest and funniest family memories, I guess I should give you a brief history on my family. But don’t worry; I’ll just give you a brief history on my intermediate family.
It’s a family that revolves around my grandmother, Lorraine. She has lived in the same house for the past forty-seven years. This is the same house I was raised in when my mother and me had nowhere else to go. It’s also the same house that all four of my grandmother’s daughters have lived, as children and as adults, and the house that five out of six grandchildren have lived in.
At most, there have been five people crammed into the small, five-bedroom house. Not a big deal you think? Okay… well what about five people crammed into the small, five bedroom house that are trapped in there after three feet of snow (which is unusual for North Carolina) and no way of getting out (again this is North Carolina, NOT New York)? Kinda changes your thinking, huh? Yeah exactly… anything can and will happen…
Let’s see… my grandmother, my aunt, my cousin, Michelle, my mom, and I lived in the house the year that it snowed three feet. Everyone got along, no one was on anyone else’s nerve…YET. But after a few days of doing nothing but playing Scrabble, everyone got to the point to where they needed their space and preferred to be left alone.
I don’t remember where Michelle was when I did, but I sneaked into her room to play with some Barbie Collectibles that she had told me, repeatedly, not to play with. Give me a break, though, I was a little girl who loved Barbies. I was also a little girl that if you told me not to do something, I’d sneak around and do it anyways, especially when it came to Michelle’s stuff. Michelle had told mom numerous times, “Karen, tell Amanda to stop messing with my stuff. She’s going to break something.” I don’t know if mom didn’t think it was that big of a deal or what, but nothing was done to me; until finally, Michelle had had enough.
She had caught me red-handed playing with her Barbies, grabbed me by the arm and made me stand at the top of the stairs. She yelled for my mother who stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I keep telling you that tell Amanda to stop messing with my things, and you don’t do anything about it. You need to learn how to discipline your child.” Wrong thing to say to my mother! The obscenities started to fly, finger gestures started
SneakersGrandchildren, Guess, NerveMarch 12, 2010
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