Lesson #3: Thick skin is a must
Although I was the only girl growing up I definitely was not a tomboy. My mom dressed me in bows and dresses and ruffles. My walls were lined with pastel flowered wallpaper. I idolized the Disney princesses (although I did love a good game of Ninja Turtles). With my girly nature came my sensitivity. If a ball was thrown at me I cried, if harsh words were uttered my way I cried, and if I got left out of an activity I cried. In fact, I became a sobbing version of “the boy who cried wolf” and looking back on it I must have been pretty obnoxious. Several of these events have led to my developed resiliency.
[Disclosure: Most of the following stories involve my brother Mark. He was/is NOT a terror, but being 2 years older than me, he had the easiest access to ego-deflating torture]
Mark & me before he knew how to tease. Clearly it didn’t last long seeing as I am about 9months in this picture.
The bathtub incident:
When I was three years old my family and I made a trip to Duck, North Carolina. We rented a house on the beach with family friends and settled in for a relaxing week. I spent the majority of the day in the sand and out of the water due to a fear of the overpopulation of jellyfish and my mom’s fear of sharks. When the day was over my mom brought my five-year-old brother Mark and me to the master bath. It was huge and had jet capabilities which I told my mom I did not want on, much to Mark’s chagrin. Once we were occupied in the bath, Mark with toy boats and me with my Barbies, my mom left the room. Mark saw this as an opportunity to turn on the jets. Well, I did not like the unexplained eruption of bubbles overcoming me and so, naturally, I screamed bloody murder. My mom rushed to the bathroom just as Mark was turning off the jets. She calmed me, lightly scolded Mark, and left the room. This charade continued several times until finally my mom just stayed in the bathroom with us.
The failed band incident:
As a fourth grader my career goals consisted of being part of a super cool band. Who led me to believe I had a good voice, I do not know, for if I had to compare my vocals to one thing it would be Phoebe singing Smelly Cat on Friends. Letting my delusions get the best of me, I decided to create a band with my best friends. Flying Colors. That’s what we called ourselves. We only performed original songs and each of us went by a different color (i.e. Flying Blue, Flying Purple etc.). Wicked cool, I know. We even went so far as to record a tape on a walkman and look up the addresses of different record companies to send the demo to. Things were serious. One person who did not see me as having a future in the music industry was Mark. He would constantly mock me which was not something I appreciated as a budding artist. Needless to say my bandmates and I did not get our big break, but Mark will never let me live that time of my life down….as he continues to sing our #1 hit, “People”.
The creepy mirror incident:
When I was in 8th grade my family and I lived in Louisville, KY. After 13 years of growing up in Marshfield, MA, this was a huge and emotional move; however, once we saw our new home my brothers and I were overjoyed. The house was massive. Now, I’ve always erred on the side of overly jumpy (something I most definitely inherited from my mother). Being in a new home did not help my, what I like to call, condition. We were about six hours into our move and I was very busy unpacking and setting up my new room. While hanging my wardrobe up in my closet I happened to catch a glimpse of the mirror, which created a 90 degree angle between me and my door. I immediately screamed at the top of my lungs, literally, upon seeing Mark making, quite possibly, the creepiest face I have ever seen: think psychotic murderer status. My bone chilling fear sent Mark into stitches, and my parents into anger at the fact that I had overreacted so harshly. I should also mention that similar events continue to occur, in fact, last month Mark ran into my room wearing a mask. My response? A glass-shattering shriek. Apparently some things never get old.
The mashed potato incident:
My family was pretty conservative growing up in the sense that every week night we sat down for family dinner. We originally did not have a dishwasher at my house so after dinner my brothers and I would have to clear the table and wash and dry the dishes. This one particular night was my turn to wash so my brothers Mark and Connor (Andy was at college) had to wait around while I scrubbed. In the midst of Mark and Connor clearing the plates, and me washing, the two had taken mashed potatoes and rolled them into balls which they placed in the freezer…something I was completely unaware of. I finished washing and was helping put the dried dishes away when all of a sudden ice balls were hurled at my legs. I had never felt such a striking pain before. The boys were within three feet of me so the landing was fairly shocking. I screamed out in pain causing my parents to rush to the kitchen; however, when they saw mashed potatoes on the ground they gave a sigh of annoyance at me rather than my aggressive brothers. I have to give it to them, the plan was pretty amazing. Let the mashed potato balls sit until the outside is icy enough to crack with applied pressure, i.e. my leg. The bruises the next day were absolutely brutal.
While there were many more experiences these are a few that really stick out in my head. Tears came to my eyes with each jet turned on, each line sung, each creepy face or mask, and each mashed potato smashed on my leg, and yet I turned out to be the foolish one in all cases. Because of the comedy they experienced from my pain I learned to take the hits (literally and figuratively) with a grain of salt, and give them back when necessary. I have my brothers to thank for my developed toughness, and they only had to suffer through years of overly exaggerated tears to get me this way.