journal 1998

I'm just trying to get through these now, so I can throw away another book.

"Early childhood is a blur of happy feelings, but nothing concrete until about the age of four. Actually, at three I remember my mom driving me to nursery school which was in the basement of my dad's church (Missouri Senid?? Lutheran) At 4, I remember preschool at the BG park district with Mrs. Vanderbilt (?) and Mrs. Kohl. We sang Yummy yummy yummy I've got love in my tummy, practiced patting our heads while rubbing our stomachs (this was particularly difficult). I think this was the age at which I started reading (went to kindergarten just before 5th birthday). Mom taught me how to draw Christmas tree, to memorize my address and phone number. Kindergarten--Mrs. Czepiel...no one liked her because they thought she looked and acted like a witch. I liked her though. At show and tell, I showed fossils once. (my dad's a science teacher) I loved being picked to read because it was easy and I remember using glue scissors and construction paper to make pictures. In first grade, I think this is when we were robbed by C. Philips in the car in Chicago while Dad was in Helix camera store. At school, teachers were worried that this affected me...I think because I couldn't concentrate and hear all that well (?) so I started seeing a speech therapist to see how well I was understanding and stuff, which turned out fine, but making sure that I could follow directions and stuff. second grade, Mrs. Goldberg, third grade Mrs. Wadie, or third grade went to Europe (third grade??) England, Norway, France, Spain, Switzerland, Germany. Memories-

Later...holidays, relatives, I was always pressured to talk more so the relatives would know, or at least think that I liked them. Mom would say something like, "Oh, Nicole, why don't you tell Annella about that picture of the family you drew in school today? You know, the one that you got an A one, and the teacher wrote, "great job, Nicole". The inevitable result would be, "Oh yeah, um, I drew a picture of the family in school, and I got an A." Then, crickets twirping for a couple of year-long minutes until someone asked for more potatoes. Then there were the gifts...ahh, the gifts! I was trying my hardest to be cool. I think I felt this was being like my brother (5 years older) and his friends. I did not want to have to mess with dresses, tights, patent leather shoes, curled hair, BLAGH! YUCK. If boys didn't, why in the world should I? So every time I got gifts, they were these intricately thought-out get-ups. One year I got a plaid bouse which looked harmless enough until I opened it out and noticed the ruffles that went up alongside the buttons ending with a Marie Antoinette-style stand-up frilly collar. Then a beige corduroy vest and matching corduroy skirt. It was ridiculous to me at the time. (I should mention that these were very expensive, nice clothes that probably would have looked great; they just 'weren't me.') "Oh go try it on, Nicole. Oh, it's beautiful!" I'd hesitantly carry the costume up the stairs wondering about escape routes. I'd be mortified trying it on in front of the mirror. "this must be a joke.' It was cute...for someone else.