How Far Back Can My Mind Stretch?

Yikes! This might hurt! Making my brain stretch that far back. Actually, I do remember quite a few things when I was probably around the age in the picture up there. The only way that I know FOR SURE the above picture is me is because I remember it when I was a kid, plus I recognize those dimples. Somehow through the years I have managed to retain them. So many friends of the family called me "Dimp-"Dimps". What the hell kind of a name is that? Well, I guess it is a skosh better than the one mom came up with years ago. For the life of me I can't remember WHY, as in what prompted mom to start calling me this, I don't know if it was because one of our neighbors called me Lynnard, and mom having this quick and sometimes "way out there" wit came up with Lyddia, then she stretched it to Lyddia-Oddia, and as if that wasn't enough she HAD to add this.... Boddia. So it became, Lyddia-Oddia-Boddia. The thing is, now a days with the thyroid disease, I DO have an Oddia-Boddia. Great, I guess it was predestined. No wait, Mom put some kind of evil curse on me, yeah, that was it. Yeah, right... I don't think so.
I think it was around the age of this picture that Mom went back to work. Before I was born, she worked as a secretary in some dudes law office. I don't remember where she went to work at that time, if it was back to that law office or what. Hell, don't expect me to remember EVERY damn detail!
Since both Mom and Dad were working, that meant that I went over to GT's house and she took care of me during the day. I have absolutely no recollection of me being hauled back and forth from GT's house to our own, which is kinda strange. For all I know, they just dropped me off there one day and left me there until they decided to move to Seattle when I was about 5 years old. I am kidding. Geesh! I can see Mom reading this now. A puzzled look on her face and then a look of horror and her saying, "Oh my, we didn't do that did we?" LOL Of course I would have to say to Mom in an all serious tone, and put on this REALLY sad face and say, "Yeah you did. I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong." And then me, not being able to keep a straight face after I saw the look of shock and horror on my Mom's own face.... she would notice and then say, "Oh geez, we did not!!!!!!" And be all embarassed cuz she fell for one of my bullshit stories.... AGAIN.
Nice aren't I??? ;o]
So, there I was, at GT's all day. Unfortunately she felt that the sun rose and set on me. As a small child, I suppose I didn't mind it much, but as I grew into my "terrible teens" I found it EXTREMELY annoying because I KNEW I was no angel, that's for sure. I was as most kids in their teens- an ass, and that was on my good days.
When I remember some specific thing from that time in my early little life, I honestly wonder how in the world my Grandmother put up with me. On rainy days I couldn't go outside. (I'd probably melt or something. Grandma was the Queen of Oldwive's Tales!) So.... what do you do with a kid that basically LIVED for playing outside and riding her cool red tricycle? Well, if you are my Grandma, you let her ride her trike in the house. Yes, you read that right. IN THE HOUSE. Now, naturally, as a kid, you are thinking, cool! Lots of room! Tear around, etc. Uh, no, not so. Grandma's house wasn't that big, but some how I managed. How did I not ruin every stick of furniture in her house? How did I manage to not knock Grandma on her rear? How could she stand that going around and around and around for God knows how long? And across her kitchen floor! She would mop that floor every morning after breakfast and dishes, then here I would come tearing along .... through the living room, hang a sharp left into the small entry way by the front door, into the kitchen, screech to the left again around the kitchen table, on into the dining room, trying hard not to hit the dining room table, through the living room again..... Holy Crap! Maybe Grandma was on some kind of tranquilizers or something... she had to have been!

I also had this strange fascination with bagging groceries. (Shaking my head, I have no idea what I was thinking.) But while Grandma was doing dishes or something else there on the counters, that is when I would decide to climb up on the stool that she had there by the phone and the kitchen counter, climb up so I could reach the cupboard, open the cupboard and one by one start taking stuff out of the cupboards, mainly canned goods, I would want Grandma to pretend that she was shopping and then I would "bag" her groceries. After I was done with that strangeness then I would put everything back in the cupboards. I wonder if Grandma ever would be in that cupboard looking for something, not be able to find it and let out a string of swear words, followed by my name??

The other thing I loved to do was go get into Grandma's car. That bright red Studebaker stationwagon. I would sit on the driver's side. Could not see out of the car, but I would pretend that I was driving. And speaking of driving...as I mentioned earllier, back in those days there was no such silly thing as seatbelts or car seats for kids. How Grandma would want me to "sit" in the car while she was driving around town... was to stand beside her on the bench seat and put my little arm around her neck. That is how I would hang on. I remember I told someone that story once and I will never forget the look of complete and total terror on their face. Naturally, I laughed my ass off. Hell, it wasn't THAT bad. I managed to survive. And it is in that very spot, right next to Grandma, going God knows where - that I spewed forth my first words... yes, I had been listening to Grandma as she drove for awhile now, and it showed when someone pulled out in front of us, Grandma's arm came flying across to protect me and I said in a rather loud tone, Son of a Bitch! Yes, that's right. I remember this incident, well, I remember saying the words, I didn't remember why, or that they were my first words, Grandma filled in the rest of the information years later. I think I remember it because it was the first time (of what was going to be many) that I could see Grandma stifling a giggle or trying her damndest not to smile. Through the choked giggles and the hand up to her face to try to hide the smile, she tried to tell me that it wasn't a good thing for little girls to be saying. Knowing me, I no doubt thought.. "And why not? He did a bad thing!"
I wish I could have been a mouse in the corner when mom or dad or whoever came to get me (if they even did ~insert loud evil laughter here~) and Grandma, again trying to keep from cracking up, announces, "Your daughter said her first words today." Mom I would imagine would have been a little sad that she didn't get to hear them, that is until she learned what it was that I said. I wonder if at that moment Mom thought, "Oh dear God, help me, this one is going to be interesting."
When I think about that story, I always chuckle. In a lot of ways, my memories seem like something that happened to someone else, or it was like I watched it on TV or something, but when I hear or I remember that story, I don't doubt for one second that I did that. I haven't changed a damn bit! No wonder I still feel like I am only 5!!!!