Throwback: Parental Version

It's Thursday, the day for all the instagram pictures to be of little versions of ourselves and the hashtag #tbt to be tacked on the end of every post. Honestly, I love this whole Throwback Thursday thing. Think about it. Everyone with a phone smart enough is uniting in their desire to honor their heritage by looking to the days of old. It's not just some excuse for me to post a picture of when I looked like a blonde Asian child.

But really, tell me it isn't true.

editing job courtesy of me.

Anyway, back to the point. Throwback Thursday! I'm linking up with The Life of Bon again because that was fun last time and memories make me happy.

..................................................

My parents are superb people who I highly enjoy being around. So much so that I'm desperately trying to finagle a trip to Logan with them this weekend, but that's a story for another day. Or not, because now that I think about it it's not really a story at all so moving on.

My parents have excellent senses of humor. No but really, they might be the funniest people I know. My dad always makes little puns that are terrible and we all roll our eyes at, but secretly we all think they're hilarious. My mom is the biggest prankster I have ever known and I am proud to be her daughter. I think this sense of humor is what makes me love being with my family so much. 

So the memory isn't very specific, which might seem like a cop out, but the memories we've had and continue to laugh about just can't be listed or told on a blog. You wouldn't understand the frustration and relief felt the first time my mom and I pulled the pony trailer by ourselves, the delight my dad and I had when the snow was so pristine and up to our waists and skiing felt like magic, the uncontrollable laughter my mom and I had while hiking Halfdome, the thrill of being on my dad's shoulders while on the very top of the tallest ladder from the church building in order to change a burned out Christmas light at the tippy top of the eave on our house. did you follow that?

Usually my favorite memories of my parents are just when we're around, joking and laughing and teasing and resolving to not tease so much but then following that resolution up with a joke. I love them a lot and if you haven't met them that's really just a shame.

On the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park, Montana

Outside the Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton National Park, Canada 

On the beach in Seaside, Florida

Outside the Salt Lake City Public Library

i have to continue with the captions otherwise it's not uniform and i fail.

 Inside my Weiler Grandparent's old home when I just a baby and looked fabulous in that long white dress.

it'll happen again. 

like, when i dress up as ghost for halloween i mean.

During our river-rafting vacation in Moab in which we dominated Cataract Canyon.

Class 5 people. Class 5.

What's your favorite memory of your parents? Catch the throwback and consider it for a minute. that....is such a stretch i don't even want to talk about it.

peace and parents

rrw

throwback: elementary love version

Let me start this love saga off with the announcement that I was, in fact, the second most popular girl in elementary school. This status was legitimate because I didn't come up with it by myself. (even though it's totally something elementary-school-me would say about herself. i was a very pompous little girl. but now i'm super humble so it's not a problem) One of my friends told me that she had calculated it out and while Paige was the most popular (agreed. she was also my best friend, for what it's worth), I was the close second. I don't think I've ever been that close to the top of the social food chain since, so I bring it up whenever possible. Like...right now. Cool.

Being such a popular girl, boy drama was inevitable. With my crimped hair, huge bangs, buckteeth, and beanpole legs (which made me taller than all the boys) I was a catch. But this throwback isn't about how all the boys liked me because I was the SECOND MOST POPULAR GIRL IN SCHOOL (ok. i'll stop with that. especially since, as i think about it, it's not really something to brag about anyway. #sheesh). This is about the boys that I liked. So let's begin.

His name was Anders. We were in the same first grade class and would play "superbabies" at recess. All the boys would tuck their knees up into their shirts and hop around me, the superbaby mom. The boys would swarm, yelling "mommy! mommy!" while I pretended to be annoyed and not completely giddy at all the attention I was getting from all the coolest boys in first grade. But I really only had eyes for one. Anders.

All the girls did. From first grade to fifth grade, which was when he moved away, he was the boy all the girls wanted to dance with at the Valentine's Day dance, the one everyone wanted to sit next to at lunch, and play soccer with at recess. Your life ended if you weren't on the same Capture the Flag team as Anders during night games.

He was everything my elementary heart was looking for. Smart, athletic, neighborhood boy, pooka shell wearer, and had perfectly gelled hair that all the other boys tried to imitate. I was in love.

Nothing ever came of this love, however. My popularity must have intimidated him because he always chose to "date" the other girls. Whatever man. Your loss. i swear i'm not still bitter about this. maybe.

Then everything changed when Dylan came into the picture. We were in the same fourth/fifth split. I was a fifth, he was a fourth. (i'm telling you, i go for the younger guys). He was beautiful. We played soccer together. And walked home from school together. And would glance at each other and then quickly look away. It was the things songs are made of.

The fourth/fifth split went on a field trip that year to Classic Skating. I don't know what the educational value of this field trip was, but I am certainly glad it happened. The used skates, confetti pattern carpet, Avril Lavigne music, and disco lights and lasers were the perfect setting for the next (and final) step of Dylan and mine's relationship.

I had my favorite jean overalls on over my favorite pink plaid shirt. My bangs looked not so poofy and my braces matched my outfit. I was a bombshell. I remember standing with my friends in a crowd as the DJ announced that the "snowball" skate was about to happen (i still don't understand that name). This snowball dance was boys choice and I knew who I wanted to ask me to skate. I could see him standing over with his friends, could see him looking over at me, watched as his friends pushed him out of the circle, laughing. I stared as he came across the floor to our group. Everyone froze as he asked me to snowball skate with him (no eye contact was made during the making of this snowball couple). I agreed, took his hand, and spent the next 3 minutes of my life skating in circles without speaking a word. The song ended, we dropped each other's hand, actually looked at each other for the first time, said "see ya" and then skated away as fast as we could.

And that was the end.


I wish I could say that my strategy with boys has changed since then, but it really hasn't. The whole "no eye contact, no speaking, and running away" thing continues to reel them in. I can't help it.


peace and snowball skating

rrw

ps. this post is inspired by the linkup with The Life of Bon at www.thelifeofbon.com. Go look her up. She's hilarious. I just can't get the button thing to work for me, which, you know, is typical.