Grade school is tough, man.

I was up this morning very early to feed Ember. I went back to bed around 5 or so, but I couldn't fall asleep. The strangest memory had come to me. In sixth grade our art teacher had assigned us a project to draw 20 different faces for 20 different emotions. He wanted us to focus on how emotions change our eyes and mouths, etc. We moaned and groaned about our horrible plight, so he told us about a girl over at a different school who had, of her own volition, done 412 drawings! I turned to the guy next to me, Cody, and I bragged that I could easily break that record. (WHYYYY) He had $5 that said I couldn't. Game on. Worst weekend of my life ensued. But somehow, I think with Scott's help, I cranked out 413 different emotions. I had run out of emotions of course, so I was using descriptors like "Just got poked by a cactus" and "Got burned by a hot seatbelt" toward the end. If you're wondering, both of those instances result in the exact same facial expression. Anyway, I got my kudos and $5 from Cody. I also permanently solidified my existence as being that of a total nerd.

So after that odd memory came to me, it was a total onslaught. I couldn't fall asleep for the life of me. There were so many grade school memories that flooded my mind. I wanted to document them just so I could fall back asleep, but a part of me was afraid to. I realized that even as I tried to flesh them out with more detail, they crumbled right before my eyes as though they were made out of spun sugar. How ironic that I would need to avoid writing about them in order to preserve them in my mind. There are, however, a few very vivid memories that I'd like to share. Maybe some life lessons tucked in there somewhere too.

No names have been changed to protect any innocents. You're all going down with me.

I remember walking back from gym class with Chris. I think we were in second grade. I liked Chris a lot but we hadn't talked much. When we did I always thought he was really funny. He had a dry sense of humor, that one. So as we were walking back from gym, I remember trying to make him laugh. I couldn't tell you what point I was trying to make, but I made a reference to a "fat, bald, cross-eyed, pigeon-toed guy." and I laughed uproariously. To my dismay, he wasn't even smiling. He looked at me very seriously and said, "I'm cross-eyed." I died a thousand deaths in that moment. I had had no idea and I certainly never wanted to make fun of him. I'm pretty sure I blew past his comment and acted like it was no big deal, but the rest of the walk back was pretty quiet.

Life lessons learned: don't make fun of people. Period. Present or not, imaginary or not. It's ugly. Second, apologize even when it's awkward. If you don't, you just might regret it 25 years later.

Same school year. I was never the girl who got love letters from the boys. I knew this was because I was hideous, of course. Even in second grade I had a sense of unease about being the center of attention. When people ask now how school was for me, my response is often a very long pause and then the admission that I very much felt like a sore thumb in school. And it started early. It was already in full swing by the time this particular day rolled around. I got my first love letter from Matt Nitschke. Now I was one of the tallest girls in my class. This was horrible and caused me to curse my very existence, you see. Matt had the opposite problem as one of the shortest boys. A few of the other kids noticed that he gave me a note and I was humiliated. I felt it drew attention to me being so tall and I was afraid people would make fun of me. I put it in my bag as discreetly as possible and decided to wait until I got home to read it. Don't get me wrong, I was flying high to have gotten a love note! But I didn't like being teased about it. I brought it home and ran to my room and spread it out on the floor. There were lots of pages. I don't remember one thing he had written, although I'm sure it was very poetic and sweet. Our neighbor lady was over chatting with my mom in the kitchen, and as I walked out I realized that my mom was telling her that I had gotten a love note. I had no idea how she knew but I was mortified that she was telling Adele! Adele would tease me ruthlessly for something like that! My ears burned and I held it against Matt that I was so embarrassed about all this. He gave me notes for several days but I never let on that I liked receiving them. Kids in our class picked up on this and teased both of us. Lots of tales of us sitting in a tree or some such nonsense. By Friday, I had had it. Matt brought over another note and handed it to me as a bunch of us were standing in the back of the room. I took it from him, turned up my nose, and dropped it in the garbage. To my dismay and horror, it hit the bottom of the empty four foot tall garbage can and went CLANK. It.... clanked. He had given me something. I wanted to dive in there and fetch it out and give it back to him if nothing else. The look he gave me was one I'll ever forget. It was the single most cruel, heartless thing I had ever done. Matt looked at the garbage can longingly, but he had too much pride to tip it over and try to retrieve the note. I desperately wanted to apologize and felt like crying, but I couldn't get over my own pride either. It was the last note I ever got from him, or anyone, not surprisingly. I have been haunted by that incident ever since. I bet it's at least once a month on average that I think of Matt and wonder if he remembers what I did. I'd love to just tell him sorry.

Life lesson learned: don't ever let your pride supercede your desire to make something right.

Just a few random memories: I remember stealing chalk and an eraser from Mrs. Hutton in first grade. We had a chalkboard at home that I loved playing with, but we didn't have any chalk. I could have asked Mom and Dad for some I suppose, but it seemed much easier just to take some from the classroom. It was early in the morning and the teacher was in the back of the class greeting kids. I had come in and put my bag down and then I casually stood at the front of the classroom and inched backwards toward the chalkboard (if one can do such a thing casually). Once my back hit the chalkboard, I felt around until I found a piece of chalk and an eraser, then I held them behind my back and ran back to my desk. Life lesson learned: be more inconspicuous when stealing stuff. Hah. I felt tremendously guilty, actually. I brought it back the next day. I'm sure Mrs. Hutton knew what I had done.

I remember the first day of first grade. Mrs. Hutton had handed out a piece of paper and we were supposed to do something with it.. I don't remember what offhand. But as soon as I got mine, I promptly sneezed all over it. The page was literally soaked. We were supposed to raise our hand when we were done with it, so she was surprised that I had raised my hand so quickly. When she realized that it was because mine was covered with snot rather than answers, she made a face and recoiled a bit. She went and got me a new one and then folded mine up snot-side-in and threw it away. Life lesson? Nah. It was as unemotional as a business transaction.

Kindergarten. I literally remember nothing about kindergarten other than Tony Barnes standing at the front of the room with a glorious flat-top haircut, holding the flag as we all recited the Pledge of Allegiance. I had never been so in love in all of my five years.

Third grade. Cody Champagne broke my heart. He chased me around the playground for a couple of days and I dutifully played hard-to-get (i.e. I asked Brooke to punch him in the nose and she cheerfully obliged). Then one day I got to school and he called me a fat cow in the hallway! I was crushed! After that he was always the one who "got away".

Last day of fifth grade. I was horribly sick. I think I had strep throat, because I had to take these awful antibiotics that tasted like banana dirt. I wanted to go to school so badly because it was Awards Day and I hated to miss it! I was devastated. Fast forward a year to the last day of sixth grade. I was at the top of my game. I was going to be called up to get an award at least six times, so I felt like a big deal. My older sister Kristi had even come to watch and she had brought some of her friends. I literally could not have felt cooler. ...until she tripped me one of the times I walked up to get my award. I was mad at her all summer.

Sixth grade. Allison Suko was SO lucky. She had her birthday the day before Veteran's Day, so no matter what, she could always have a sleep over because we never had school the next day. She did it lots of times, but sixth grade was particularly rowdy. We played Truth or Dare, and someone dared her to lick the toilet seat. I could not believe it.. she did it! But she insists that she had just cleaned it prior to everyone coming over. Doubt it.

Mortifying moment of fifth grade: we had to read aloud in class and I pronounced orangutan "orinJOOtin". The class busted out laughing. I was so embarrassed. I was surprised they all knew what it was! I had never heard of such a thing.

Sixth grade was the year I decided I was a runner. Hah. At the beginning of the year we had to do our fitness tests, and I think I ran the 600 in 3:26. In case you're wondering, that is HORRIBLE. That whole year I became determined to get good at running. By the end of the year when we retested, I ran the 600 in 1:57. Tied Cody, mind you. I think Steph Pederson beat us by just a couple seconds but I could live with that. I felt pretty awesome.

Speaking of Steph, she and Nicky McCann and I were in a dance trio for gym class. We had to come up with a dance and perform it in front of several classes. Basically my worst nightmare. Steph choreographed the whole thing. I think we took second place! I'm pretty sure Sarah Bergman's team won first. She was the queen of dance. I think I could still do the first part of that dance... but not for any less than a million dollars.

I'm getting snapped back to reality here. Ember is just waking up from her nap. Pardon the complete lack of structure. Call this an exercise in free-writing. Mrs. Moser would be so proud.