Potpourri of Awkwardness
Learning how to prove a point
I was eight years old and visiting my grandparents in Florida with my family. I had just started on the swim team and my dad, a former swimmer, was trying to give his adorable eight year old a few tips. I took in the tips, struggled with them, and then became frustrated because I wanted to play and not work on my stroke. My dad and I had a brief back and forth which included him telling me something inspiring about working hard and practicing. I wasn’t having it and wanted to pout, but where should I go to pout? I was in a pool, but I still needed to prove a point. So, I folded my arms and sat at the bottom of the pool. About 30 seconds later, my father won.
Nicole takes a tumble
Growing up, I rode my bike everywhere. Starting at around 13 years of age, I began sharing my 6’3” father’s bike. It was a little tall to hop onto but I always managed and it was really nice Schwinn. One day I got a new bike seat, so I was testing it out. I wasn’t actually riding the bike, but kind of sitting on it, balancing and testing it out. For some reason, I began to lose my balance. I couldn’t hop of the bike due to it being so tall and couldn’t twist to really break my fall. So straight down to the left I went. It wasn’t a bad fall, nothing broke, but I noticed my leg was covered in blood, and the inside of my knee was stinging. I looked and noticed a ½ circle of skin missing, and a pretty deep chunk at that. So I did what anyone would do and went screaming into the house for my mom. The rest of this story my mother denies happening to this day. It happened. She surveyed my wound and said “Wow, you might need stiches, can you find the chunk?”
So there I was crawling around on my knees looking for my chunk of flesh in the back yard. I never did find it. I never did get stiches. The scar looked pretty nasty for a while, and now it just looks like a chunk is missing from my leg, because, well, it is. The dénouement of this story comes every time my mother looks at the scar and says “We really should’ve gotten stitches in that.” Yeah.
Who needs enemies?
My friend Sam and I have been BFF’s since we were about 6. We have been through many hilarious stories and injuries together–this story combines both. Sam and I did musical theater together in the summers and loved it. One year we actually wrote, starred in and directed our own play. Maybe I will get into the plot of it another Thursday. Anyway, each summer there is a big performance at the end with all the kids involved doing some singing and dancing crap. This year one performance included singing ‘Grand Old Flag’ complete with small American flags each of us had. To change songs, the flags were passed and collected through all of us to someone on the side of the stage. I was at the edge of the stage so all of the flags from the stage would be passed to me. Sam was to my left. She quickly passed all of the little flags on little poles to me. Directly into my eye. I was promptly pulled of stage to make sure she didn’t permanently blind me. I can still hear Sam’s mom saying “Who needs enemies with friends like these?”
Flipper
I was a bad baby. My parents told me that if they had had me first instead of my brother, I would’ve been an only child. They nicknamed me Flipper, because if you even so much a creaked open the door to my bedroom I would start crying and rolling around. My dad said I had a strong will and knew I would use it for good or for evil. My mom said it was because I was just so smart and sick of being a baby. God I love those people. Anyway, cut to my mom’s birthday while I am a baby. She is changing me, there is an ice cream cake waiting to celebrate her birthday out on the table. She turns to grab a diaper for a split second. I spaz and roll off the table onto the ground. I broke my tiny little arm. My mother starts crying hysterically as any good mom would. My brother who is 3 or 4 at the time starts running around screaming that my arm is going to fall off. My father calmly collects all of us and puts us in the car to the hospital. I get a tiny little cast on my right arm limiting my mobility a bit. The ice cream cake melted all over the table and my mom feels guilty to this day. I did stop sucking my thumb in record time.
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