SOML (Pt. 2)

Once we moved to the new house, I think I must have really enjoyed the extra space. The mirrors on one full wall in the dining room gave the illusion that the room was even larger (this effect often psyched out our guests).

It must have been shortly after we moved in, for I was still a wee lass. I was twirling merrily in the living room. I called out for my mom to look. (I also just so happened to be right next to the fireplace). When she finally looked, I lost my balance and hit my head on the bricks of the hearth. I don’t remember much of what happened next, except that I was scared they would have to call an ambulance. I don’t think I got a concussion, but I still have a chisel mark on my forehead to this day.

Next to the aforementioned chisel mark is one similar to it, but this time from chickenpox. I apparently had it around the same age (and maybe one other time?). I was covered head to toe in calamine lotion and looked quite like a ghost. My siblings thought I rather resembled a rodeo clown, so they placed a red cowboy hat on my head and little boots on my feet. And snapped a photo, of course. Thankfully, I think I was a pretty good sport about it. Perhaps because we had recently gone to a rodeo with a family friend/"uncle" (who went to the cowboy church with us) and I had enjoyed it so much. Or maybe the cowboy get-up made me feel like a character from “Little Dogs On the Prairie”, a cartoon childhood favorite of my siblings and me.

Around this same time, my siblings and I would often play “rodeo”-- using the large closet in the girls' room as the “chute”(??) and the bedroom as the “arena”. One of my older siblings would play the bull and my middle sister and I would take turns riding on their backs, one hand extended in the air and the other holding on for dear life to the scruff of their shirts as they bucked and swayed. One of the other siblings would be the “announcer”, rendering exciting embellishments to each bull rider's story and giving the bulls ridiculous names such as “Red Cow Chicken the Bull”. (Don’t ask me why)

We had some pretty vivid imaginations as children. Bikes doubled as vehicles (we even made our own "trailers" to pull behind) or horses-- and the occasional cow. The cow was thanks to me because I was obsessed with the idea of owning a dairy cow. To the point that I (on at least one occasion) pricked holes in the fingers of a latex glove, filled it with water, tied it off, and attached it to the bike to pretend I was milking a cow. It worked pretty well, I must say. My siblings just chuckled and shook their heads. But where do you think I learned to be so eccentric??

Another thing that encouraged our creativity was our playhouse. The previous "generation" was made from a couple of old pallets and boards. But I was lucky enough to remember the shed-sized playhouse my older siblings assembled, complete with a functional attic and roof. They also rigged a pulley system from the attic to be able to lift things inside from the bottom story. I remember one night (I think it must have been before the roof was completed) we lay on the attic floor and watched a meteor shower.

Just like the bikes, the playhouse was multipurpose. At times it functioned as a restaurant, bed and breakfast, train depot, general store, farm, etc. With your imagination, the possibilities are endless!