One of my very favorite things growing up was a cardboard house I got in the mail by collecting box tops from my Flintstone's chewable vitamins. Much like the photo above, mine had a similar window on either side and a door for privacy. It came in the mail right before Halloween and I couldn't get inside of it fast enough. Later that week, I attended my very first haunted house. The image of a decapitated woman sitting in a chair with blood dripping down her dress, forming thick red pools around her ankles is one that haunts me to this day. I'm fairly certain I'd seen her before and I'm positive I never saw her again, which backs up my theory that there never really was a haunted house at all. When we got home that night, I went into my house. My heart was racing as I tried to shake the image of the headless woman out of my head. I could feel someone watching me and I ran to the other side to look around... nothing. I stood quietly playing, but every creak sounded like an axe being dragged, so I decided to go upstairs and find my parents instead. When I opened the door, I was greeted by my brother, "Mmuuuhhhhuuaaahhh!!
I'm not sure how long I had my little house, but I remember the day I lost it like it was yesterday. It wasn't a resale, nor was it under foreclosure: those would have been far less painful. I was the youngest of three children; the other two being boys, and my brother Wayne had a passion for "all things destruction." I walked into my room, accessed the damage and began to do what most little girls do when bad things happen. My brother just stood there laughing, "Cry-baby, cry-baby, wha! wha! wha!" "I'm gonna tell Mom!" I wailed. "Tell her and I'll do the same thing to YOU!" I never told my mom what happened that day and I'm pretty sure I got punished for throwing a "temper tantrum," which was what my brother told her happened. Though I'd often be found curled up in a closet or hiding behind a chair, I never saw another cardboard house again and, deep down, I never forgave my brother.
A few weeks before Christmas, I was strolling through Target and spotted a Roseart cardboard playhouse. Unlike my playhouse, this one was plain white with black lines outlining images that you can color in yourself. "Brilliant!" I thought, "Not only can she sit inside an empty box for hours on end, she can spend the rest of the time painting it!" Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I tossed it in the cart. "Wait until she sees this!" At some point on Christmas day, the snow began to fall in Atlanta. White, puffy drops danced all around the streets... It was beautiful. We put her new home together and sat down with a box of markers to help her decorate. She climbed through the door and poked her head out of the side window. "Do you love it?" I asked. "Yes, I do!"
Sometimes I feel bad that we stopped after one kid. I know she'll never have a brother or a sister to go to when she gets picked on at school, and it breaks my heart to see other kids playing together while she swings alone. I also know one day we won't be here to hold her heart and guide her through this roller-coaster called life. I think about it often (probably more than I should) and I question whether or not we made the right decision. The only real comfort I've ever been able to find, is knowing that I don't ever have to worry about an older brother or sister doing to her what was done to me. As long as I'm around, no one will EVER tear down her castle, I just hope I'm around long enough to make sure she doesn't move into the wrong one!
Such a cute story!! I once told my younger brother he was adopted. His birthday is April Fool's Day and there are hardly any pictures of him at all, poor thing.
ReplyDeleteI told him we made up his birthday as april fool's day and there are no pics b/c he's adopted.
Kids are so terrible to each other aren't they?
Nice she'll have her castle as long as she loves it
that is hysterical! your poor brother... hope he has a good therapist! ;-)
ReplyDeleteThere is something to be said for not having a stinky little (or big) brother come tear apart your castle.
ReplyDeleteI've seen those. They look awesome!
What a FUN idea! I just may have to get one of those for my girls. Target, you say? Must get there soon!
ReplyDeleteAs a child myself,although it was not a cardboard house box...I do remember either you or Wayne dragging me around in my family room in a pampers box(one of my only childhood memories I can remember). I, too loved my box and yes, much cheaper than buying a real house in today's economy...lol. Although, I do have you and Wayne in my life and I do consider you my full siblings(even though you're my sistah from a less disturbed mama)...I want to reassure you of Isla's position. Yes, growing up it was lonely at times being the only child. You were down south, Tyke down here south, and Wayne all grown up. I surrounded myself with my cousins and my school friends and everything was fine. I too, would hide in closets and cry at times...for different reasons,though, of the dysfunction that occured in our father's later life. The similarities between us are starting to shock me. Last night I had to go fax something at Mommy Dearest's house,which I brought my support group with...I strolled into the basement to hit a smoke and there was a box of old pictures. I looked through them and found alot of pictures of Wayne, Jason, your Aunt Sandy...then I found one of you! It was just a side profile, but the resembelance between you and I in our teens was significant. Last subject I want to touch base on about your blog for the week...Isla WILL NEVER be alone. You have a baby sister in her twenties(ok...late twenties....ugh) and I WILL be around to see her have a family and grow older, and maybe even see Isla be a Grandma one day. Do not regret having her at your age. Yes, myself, having our father at 73 when I'm 27 does suck for me, but also see where I had advantages because of his age. Dad was more financially stable and set(until someone spent it all on Sax 5th Avenue), and I benifited in many ways that you did not from our father's money. What I'm trying to say is, sometimes it is better to wait until you're older to have children because(granit the economy right now is low so not quite the same) but the maturity level you have and advice you will bestow upon Isla is way more of value than many of my girlfriends my age with young kids. Half my girlfriends still haven't even found themselves(I included), to respondsibly be able to care and nurture for a child adequately. In my child pyschology class last semester, I learned that it actually is a statistical fact that only children many times excel more in school and are more self independent. So, don't worry about my little neice...she'll be just fine. Besides, sooner or later I WILL get my life and the best path for me and I WILL be moving back to the south...so you have my word that your little girl will never be alone....because I'm not dying until I'm 90!
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