Zero to Six

Because you probably don't want to hear me moaning and complaining about my job or my impending rejections from various graduate programs, but I should still probably post something on here I thought of something that fulfills all the requirements of this blog--specifically, that it remain about me (or what I'm thinking and doing). Here now, in a blatant plagarism of a blog I admire, Nothing But Bonfires, I will tell you choice tidbits about my life so far. We begin.
Zero to Five

1983, Zero- I am born in Columbia, South Carolina. My mother wants to stop for a Big Mac on the way to the hospital but my dad refuses. They finish various errands, such as going to Walgreen's for film, my mother waddling behind my father in the store, and then go to the hospital. After I am born my father brings my mother a Big Mac. I am called Tweety Bird by the nurses because I am little and my last name is Byrd. I am born the Thursday before Mother's Day, just in time for my mother to qualify.

I am an only child for almost two years. My favorite hobbies include being pulled around in a box tied to my father's waist as he walks around the living room reading a book, and rolling across the floor to get to my destinations.

1985, aged one and nine months- We move to Nashville, where my sister Wendy is born. My maternal grandmother moves in to help with the new baby. Ten days after Wendy is born in January my parents go out to a movie with my grandmother and the baby. I am at a family friend's. A snowstorm starts and my parents are trapped, forced to get a hotel and use towels as diapers. I make snow cones with my babysitter. Apparently I am fascinated by the baby, but unclear as to gender or what, exactly it is, because when I want to hold the baby, sitting on the couch I say, 'I hod it.' I am also quite independent, telling my parents, "let ME do it!" when they try to help.

1986- aged three We move to Charlotte, North Carolina. In the apartment next to us is a little boy my sister's age, whose mother keeps him on a rainbow wrist leash. We stay with his family when my mom goes to the hospital in the middle of the night to give birth to my brother, Michael Gordon. At the hospital when we first saw him his forefinger was crooked in his mouth, like a little old wise man, as if to question who these people were.

When my mom cries because breastfeeding hurts my sister and I run for band aids.

1987-aged four We move into a house that has been built just for us. I make friends with the girl next door who fills me with jealousy by riding around the cul-de-sac with her power wheels Barbie car, or until she runs over her sister and it gets taken away from her. I get a Snoopy skateboard for Christmas but am too afraid to ride it down the hill, so I ride it while sitting. This will come to characterize my relationship with any sort of extreme sports from here on out.

My little sister, Julia, is born thirteen months after Gordon. When my mother's cousin's husband comes with her to visit he asks if we've been eating raisins. He thinks the dried up umbilical cord on her belly button is a dropped raisin.

Julia has a hernia that must be operated on. For years afterward I tell her they operated on the wrong end and took out her brain instead. Sadly, she believed me.

I ask my mom if we can move to Sesame Street. She says we can. I'm convinced I'll be living next to Oscar and hanging out with Big Bird, with my parents and without my siblings. We never move there.

At a church picnic my friends and I are playing in the creek and looking for crawdads when I step on something. I drag myself up the hill to where the adults are playing volleyball and make a commotion with my bloody foot.

When we go visit our friends out in the country the boys throw shed snakeskins on me. We swim in the lake and get leeches and play in the woods, getting ticks. But, Jeff, the older brother carries me through a poison ivy patch and gives me a shiny rock. My heart is stolen by this chivalrous act.

1988- aged five We move to Winston-Salem, North Carolina. There is one of those 'living history' areas in Old Salem. We join 4H and my friend's older sister gets to handsew her costume and be one of the living historians. I think I'm still a little jealous. When we visit Old Salem we go to the bakery and buy amazing bread and gingersnaps that are so thin they could cut your tongue.

The night before my sixth birthday a hurricane hits and my mother and sisters and I huddle in the bathroom. My brother and dad are stuck at a friend's house. I am supposed to get my first storebought cake for my birthday but the store was damaged. My mom has to make my cake, and hours after the party the store calls to see if we still want it.

In 4H I have to make a pillow on the sewing machine, and then model it in a fashion show. My mom makes the rest of my outfit. I'm so shy I can barely stand up there. My sister, Wendy, stands on her chair in the audience clapping and cheering me on. She's incredibly proud and maybe a little envious. I must have seen her because in the picture I'm clutching my pillow tightly and my smile is so wide it looks like it's about to leap off my face.