I've been reading lots of history books as well as some fun biographies from favorite authors, and I got the idea to combine the two concepts for my very own tale...So here it is!
Chapter One-Bald is Beautiful
September 20, 1978, Lawrence County Hospital, 4:00 pm-An exceptionally fat, long, baby emerges abnormally large head first to greet the world. Noisily showing an early distaste for being told what to do, baby is placed lying down on mother's stomach, when she suddenly stops crying, conserves all her energy to lift up that big bald melon, and gazes all around the room as if to say "Okay, I'm here now. You may commence adoring me".
After much conversation, it is determined that baby girl Dodson will answer to the worldly moniker of Marti Lynn. As an adult, the fact has not escaped me that my father's favorite country singer in 1978 was Marty Robbins. No one will confess to this....but I do feel oddly compelled to sing the song "El Paso" on a weekly basis. Coincidence? I think not.
2 years later-head is slightly more proportionate to body, but still devoid of anything that could be mistaken for hair. Ambitious mother scrapes together some dandelion-esque tufts to clip into a goody barrette (pink, of course) thereby proclaiming "See! IS a girl!"
The next few years are the short but prosperous time when I was the baby...I like to refer to this glorious time as "The Rummage Sale Era". When you're 3, and you get to alternate your two favorite t-shirts every day (yellow with ice cream cones, and mini cleveland browns jersey), life is pretty darn good. Every day I put on my football jersey and went to work in the front yard building my bridges and highways out of sticks and rocks, and then singing stick and rock songs to the ant travelers.
Any days I wasn't perfecting modern architecture, we had two other game plans: story time at the library (read:mommy needs a break from you) and going Rummage Salin'! Nothing is more appealing to a toddler than gathering a collection of items that other people would like to throw away. By the time I was 5, I had a closet full of old lady purses and shoes that Carol Brady would have killed for. Not to mention a FULL copy of the Grease soundtrack on a 58, lyrics and all! (Mommy, what's 'lousy with virginity' mean?)
The downfall of the rummage sale era began when I started accidentally selling out my mom about the junk we were buying. Every time I'd visit my mamaw and she'd ask me where I got my cute (shirt/shoes/toy), I'd dip my head and with a coy smile, say sweetly "rummage saaaale". No matter where I got it. 'Rummage saaaale.'
When mamaw asked if there were money problems she needed to know about, that was pretty much the end of the rummage sale glory days.
Things were still pretty smooth for me though. I had a big sister who would read me Christopher Robin and Winnie The Pooh tales at bedtime, a brother who would fly me in the air so I could pretend to be the dancers on Fame!, and a dad who would save me the little debbie cake in his lunch box when he came home from the plant at night. What more did I want?
Well, I'll tell you what I didn't want. Which leads us to chapter two.
"The Brother That Nobody Wanted" (and by nobody, I mean me)..a word of advice to adults...when a child is accustomed to being the the baby in the family, the 9 months of pregnancy are not enhanced by constant reminders of "Oh, who's not gonna be the baby anymore? Who has to be a big girl now? Who has to help mommy and daddy with the baby cause they won't have time for you? And if we're being honest, you're growing out of your cute phase so why don't we send you away so we can all just take care of the baby?" Seriously, people. PBGSTSD. Pre Big Sister Traumatic Stress Disorder. It DOES exist.
Six years old, last day of school, and the day baby brother comes home from the hospital! Kind of excited about it now, after all, he gets presents, I get presents, you know? Running down the driveway, get to the front door...WHAT IS THAT SMELL??
Oh, he just had a little accident. Diaper change time!
WHO ORDERED THIS BABY?
to be continued..