Childhood part 1

It seems like more and more adults these days talk about their "terrible childhood." They group together to talk about how miserable it was. Another group that I am excluded from. Each time I visit my parents (about twice a week) I secretly reminisce about my childhood and all of the wonderful adventures I had at there. I gaze out the window with a smile at the yard I used to run around, at the trees I used to lose myself in fantasies in, and at the hills I used to slide down only to trudge back up in the winter. I'm sorry there are so many people out there who missed out on a great childhood because now I cannot wait for Killian to get a little bigger so I can give him what my parents gave me!

We used to have this huge tree right smack in the center of the back yard (long before the fence, pool, or sheds were put up). There was a long vine that hung from somewhere up in the leaves that almost touched the ground. We used to swing on it all the time. One day, my brother came over (in his early 20's at the time, I guess) and decided to join in the fun with us (I was only about 6 or so). He was still a skinny kid, but as soon as he got on the vine it fell to the ground! (And he complains about me! lol)

When we first moved it there was huge boulder that sat where the "turn-around-area" now is. My parents would put us up on the boulder to take pictures. We loved being up there. We played barbies on the boulder, we sang at the top of our lungs from atop the boulder, and we even danced on it (cautiously). Eventually my parents realized that the boulder was not something that could sit in the driveway for much longer and they had it buried in the back yard (at least, that's what they told me).

Some of my favorite things about being a child seemed so insignificant at the time: swinging with some friends singing Paula Abdul songs; searching the bank for "diamonds;" playing Super Mario Brothers on our bikes (still not sure how that worked out, lol); building a fort in the woods with my Dad; planting flowers around the perimeter of the house with my Mom; playing baseball with all of my cousins the one year we had my Grandpa's birthday party at our house; getting into trouble for going to the swamp with a neighbor friend; playing barbies at the bottom of the stairs with hot cocoa after hours of sledding; listening to music in my nice clean bedroom; dragging all of my Christmas toys down to the daycare room one at a time to share with the kids. There are so many more, but I know that I'm rambling now.

The one family vacation I went on with my parents was to Gettysburg, PA. I had just studied the civil war in school that year and it was a place my Dad had always wanted to go to. My Mom thought it would be educational and fun, so that summer we set out in the Buick for good ol' PA. We took tours of the battlegrounds and the towns near by, we saw where Lincoln was shot, and we had an overall good time. We went into a wax museum one day, and I just remember being so afraid that one of them was going to jump up and grab me! (I still get this feeling in any museum I go to, I won't go anywhere on my own in a museum, lol.) We also went into the house of the only woman to be killed in the civil war. The entire time I felt like I was going to get shot through the door the way she did. But the best part of the entire vacation was Hershey park! (And I didn't even go on the rides!!) It was so cool to see how they made the chocolate, and the story of Mr. Hershey setting up the school for poor children was touching. But, Oh! the chocolate!!! Yum!

I could go on and on for days about my wonderful, magical, fulfilling childhood, but I think I'll stop right here.