When I was 11, all of the elementary schools were spit together into one school and it was like everyone was tossed up in the air and then landed on a different side. Sixth grade was the year I faked sick so much that by November, I had hit the allotted number of days you’re allowed to take off for the entire year. I’m pretty sure I was not really sick even one of those days.
When I was 11, and in sixth grade, I once flushed the toilet with the door open and then ran to drag my mom back to the bathroom to show her (the lack of) evidence that I had just thrown up. When anyone who knew me, and very much my mom, knew that I don’t throw up. It was also the year I prayed to the gods and goddesses that I could just break my ankle or my wrist or something drastic but not too drastic. Nothing as bad as throwing up but something that could make me miss school.
When I was 11, I knew for sure I had lost my childhood best friend, but..
When I was 11 I made new odd duck friends like me – floaters and free spirits.
When I was 11, I had the most awful perm, and the chemicals were in my top three worst smells of all time (don’t ask what the other two were because I don’t want to remember). Also, the perm didn’t grow out for THREE LONG YEARS.
When I was 11, the hit song on the radio was “Tears in Heaven” and while I knew it was about the loss of Clapton’s son, that was a pain I couldn’t wrap my head around. (still can’t) I thought it was about my father. Would he know my name?
When I was 11, my grandfather took three of us (mom, older sister, me) to Disney World and it was my first time staying at the resort there. It was my first time staying past dark – to see the electrical parade and the fireworks. It was my first time having tear-inducing rides fears, and it has stayed with me for a long time. You may say that I broke that curse recently.
When I was 36, I didn’t understand how on earth anyone survives being 11, or survives parenting an 11-year-old, because my kids are so young and seemingly unruffled, and dear God, if you thought I was bad then at fighting injustice, inequality, intolerance, and bullying. (and I was BAD. I have stories that come out in therapy..) Well. You didn’t yet meet the Mama Bear version of all of that. 11. I’m glad I’m not there anymore/yet. I’ll work my way there, slowly and surely, if you don’t mind.
I know it’s been awhile since Part 5. We had a really terrific time at Hollywood Studios – getting autographs, watching the light show and fireworks, and falling asleep in an exhausted heap at our “Lightning McQueen Hotel.” It rocked! The big prize for most of us is Magic Kingdom, though. We slept through the night and woke up to another beautiful day in Orlando. We had a decent breakfast at our resort and headed to the park! We were early and it was delightful! The train was under construction, so after we passed through friendly security (somehow) we could stand near the castle until the gates opened.
Then we were IN! We had a few things for FastPASS, but all scheduled in the afternoon. This was by design. We got to the park before the gates opened, and we’re fairly fast (most of us), so we had a goal in mind after our walk through Main Street.
Next up, I’ll give you a hint. Actually, I’ll just tell you because I’m good like that. It’s Elena of Avalor! Next up – princess meetings, clamshell bras, admiration, a first roller coaster for at least two of us, and TONS of MAGIC.
This is me linking up, as one of my favorite things to do, with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week’s topic is “When I was 11 years old…” And there’s still time to write yours. Come link up with your spin on the matter: HERE.