I was just talking to the hubby earlier about whether or not Owen(who is 3 years and 3 months old) would have any memories of living in the pub when he grows up.It would be a shame if he doesn't remember any of his life here seeing as he absolutely loves the country and our pub. Then got us thinking about our own childhood memories and there are a few that really stand out in my mind.
All these memories are from when I was about 3 years old. The first was rather traumatic actually. We were living in a 2 bedroom duplex in South Australia, my mum was in my room ironing and I was playing in the lounge room. Something spooked me, I think a daddy long legs spider was in one of my toys and I went racing down the hallway screeching like a banshee to my mum....Only I turned the corner a second too early and my face met the door frame. Mum's face hovered over me looking quite sick, I didn't realise that blood was pouring from my head but I did start feeling a bit woozy. Poor mum. She didn't have a drivers license, in fact her English wasn't to good at all(my mum is Thai and had never even met an English speaking person until she met my dad). I'm not sure where dad was, but he must have been in town as he was working fly in, fly out. I got rushed to hospital and all I remember is being pinned down to the table, my mum pretty much laying on top of me. And I screamed, and screamed, and kicked, and thrashed about, and screamed some more. I had a lovely vertical gash down my forehead that needed stitching. They tried covering my face with some kind of sheet with a hole around the cut, but that just made me scream some more.
I still feel sick when I think about it, I cut my forehead AGAIN when I was 9. This time it was horizontal(I have a sideways 'T' scar smack bang in the middle of my forehead). I was absolutely hysterical when I realised I was bleeding and I sobbed and sobbed to my Nana to not let them give me stitches. *sigh*.
The second memory was around Christmas, I may have even been about 2 and a half because I was toilet training. Dad was calling me because there was someone at the door and I remember calling back to let him know I was doing a tinkle on my little yellow potty. I tried to 'tinkle' as fast as possible to go and find out what was happening, but I was too late. There was a lovely big parcel for me though and Dad had said it was Santa dropping of the Christmas presents from my grandparents. Boy, was I disappointed that I missed Santa making a special trip to my house during the day after being to see my Nana and Pop. I still wonder what Dad would have said if I had made it to the door, perhaps the Aust Post guy had a white bushy beard?
Speaking of Santa, I was convinced that he had come to visit when I saw big boot prints in the dirt near our backdoor. It wasn't Christmas time though and there were no presents left behind. Mum never told me we had a prowler. Eep.
Lastly, I remember when I was 4 - Mum, Dad and I had gone to a friends place and came home at night by public transport. It was dark, with only a few street lights ahead. I was riding on my Dads shoulders and noticed something long a white strewn on the front lawn. My heart started thudding because I knew something was very long. Being only 4, I was frightened because there was a Mummy lurking around who was becoming unraveled. I never said anything to Mum and Dad though and when we entered our home, we realised that something was definitely wrong. Like most kids, I had my very own piggy bank and I always got the 1c and 2c pieces after a shopping trip. Now this wasn't any ordinary piggy bank, it was a replica of one of those big old red pay phones. It was about the same height as I was sitting. Anyway, our entry way was a blanket of 1c and 2c pieces and my beloved piggy bank had been smashed to smithereens. I was devastated. I was also glad that the Mummy still wasn't lurking around after being in our house. My bedroom window had been smashed(point of forced entry) and I refused to sleep in there. Poor Dad had to squeeze into my toddler bed whilst I co-slept with my Mum. It was also the dead of winter and in South Australia it gets bloody COLD.
I'm not sure why it's these things that stand out the most. It's funny that I remember what I was thinking(Santa, Mummy's...). I can't wait until my kids are grown and find out what kind of things they remember from their childhood and what their perspective was at the time!