I'm Making Toast!

Aaron, Aubrey and I were all pretty close growing up. I really don't remember fighting much. We were always running around laughing and having a grand old time.

A frequent favorite activity was to sleep outside on summer nights. It was usually on the trampoline, but sometimes it was in a tent or this particular evening, on the concrete patio. Super comfortable. All three of us were inside our sleeping bags, the opening tucked up under our knees. We were pretending to be snails inside of our shell homes. ( Do you remember the scene in the Dr. Dolittle movie where they go inside the giant snail shell and its like.. a HOUSE?! WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS SO AMAZING!) Anyways, all I really remember is that Aaron was pretending to call me on our snail phones and he asked me what I was up to. With much pride in my 8 year old voice, I proclaimed, "I'm making TOAST!" Because that, my friends, is what real snails do. They make toast. 

I was conceived by my horn-I mean, amorous parents just four weeks after my mom gave birth to my sister. (This just goes to show you how much my parents liked each other.) My mom lay on the bed and cried. She had a 2 year old son, a newborn, and had just gotten knocked up. Oh boy, you got yourself into a real pickle mom. Or ON one. HA  HA HA! Sorry. (This is one of my moms favorite traits, my inappropriate sense of humor.) Okay, moving on.

 I was born March 8, 1982, about 3 weeks after my due date. My cousin Landon and I switched our due dates. The doctor called me an old baby because I had been hanging out in amniotic fluid for too long and was all wrinkly. And I was kind of a weird looking baby. So to sum it all up:

I arrived too soon. Then I arrived too late. Then I was weird looking. And I didn't sleep through the night until I was 5. Can you see me doing a victory hand-clasp-shake right now? Cause I'm doing it. With my eyes closed and a proud grin on my face.

So. I'm my parents favorite, naturally.

My first Christmas

My memories at my first house in Bennion are nothing but good. The first Christmas I can remember was a magical one. My mom made everything magical. Aaron, Aubrey and I all had a sleepover in the basement on the floor in our sleeping bags. I remember Aaron waking us up, so early the sky was still black and bright stars speckled the sky. I was too young to grasp the concept of time, so I thought it was very late at night. We crept upstairs, and I can still see the image of the Christmas tree, it's lights casting magical shapes across the gifts awaiting us. I saw her and immediately knew Santa had brought her for me. A baby cabbage patch doll, smiling at me from a tiny stroller. She smelled heavenly and her name was Holly. I spent many hours in my room, rocking her to sleep. I would turn on a "Disney Presents: Your Favorite Fairytales" cassette tape and sing the opening/closing song over and over to her. Sing. Stop. Rewind. Sing again. And that was my first Christmas. 

Dog Food for Breakfast

The first memory I have is getting in trouble for eating dog food. It was a hot summer day in the good ole state of Utah, and I was toddling around the backyard in nothing but the my diaper. I remember standing over the stainless steel mixing bowls that my mom used for our dog Skips food and water, the little handles on the side dinging against the bowl as my chubby little hands grasped at chunks of dry food. I shoved a handful in my mouth, drool spilling down my chin and onto my naked 2 year old belly. The next thing I know, my brothers friend is knocking on the sliding glass door, beckoning to my mom. "Sister Peterson!" (that's what Mormons call the adults: Sister/Brother insert-last-name-here) he exclaimed, "That baby is eating dog food!" I remember feeling ashamed or embarrassed and that's the end of the memory. Apparently I really liked the taste because I continued to get caught eating Skips food.

NO WAIT. That's not my first memory. I actually remember what it feels like to have Desitin put on my butt. I hated that slippery slidey feeling between my cheeks. Bleh.