Please read "1" first.
I guess I will start out with where everything began, my birth. It's not technically where everything began because everything began when the universe started, which eventually led up to my parents birth, which led to mine, but I'm not going back that far, so I will start at birth. (Though throughout my writings I will probably readdress years and skip around, but birth seems to be a good start.) Mind you, I'm obviously not telling you about the first four years from my own memory, but from the memories of others who knew me.
I was born on August 14, 1993. I am the only child my mom ever had. She was 30, when after years of trying, I finally showed up. There were obvious signs that I was different from the beginning, but even more after I was born. My mom new when I was born something wasn't quite right, but the doctors wouldn't listen. They just said my mom didn't know what she was talking about because she was a first time mother. First time or not, mothers still have instincts, and hers were right. I don't entirely blame the doctors though because very little was know about the disorders I have back in 1993. I wasn't severe enough to really raise an eyebrow. Still, mothers instincts didn't need a psychologist to tell her is some fancy wording that something wasn't quite right.
I didn't really cry. My mothers parents, I call them nana and papa, went to see me in the nursery. I was the only newborn baby that was not sound asleep. Yep, even then I didn't care for sleep. Now, babies are not supposed to be able to see or move their heads much, but apparently I didn't get the memo. My nana recalls that I moved around looking at things as though I could see. Maybe I could see. I don't remember. But I had my head lifted and was turning this way and that as if trying to look around and take in my surroundings. Meanwhile, all the other newborns were sleeping, which is what I was supposed to be doing..
I wasn't slow to learn. I ran before I walked and walked before I crawled. Apparently I wasn't thrilled with doing things in the right order either. I also didn't sleep. Newborns generally sleep three hours and are awake for one. At best, I was asleep for one hour and awake for three. I never really grew out of that....
The weirdest thing to me was that no one really knows what my first word was or when I began to talk. I wasn't interested in advertising it. I didn't start late, in fact I still started early, but how I started is what's strange. See, my mom didn't think I could talk. When other people were around, I didn't. My mom found out I could talk on accident. One day she was walking by my room and I had one of those toys that speaks. (Now days, what baby toy doesn't speak!?). I was repeating what the toy was saying. So apparently I knew how to talk. I didn't actually start talking in the presence of others until I was able to say several words and even some short sentences. I didn't want anyone to know I could do it until I felt I was good at it. I guess that much never really changed.
I also hated baby stuff. I did not want that stupid sippy cup or those silly baby utensils or anything like that. Nope, I wanted the stuff the adults had. At first I used a bottle of course. I didn't drink milk though because I was allergic, even though at first the doctors didn't think I was. I got sick every time I drank milk. My mom took me to the doctor but the first time, they basically implied she didn't know anything about babies because she was a first time mom. Again with the first time mom thing!!! It's not like doctors were around throughout all of history. At one point a mother relied on her instincts A mother just knows, first time or not. And how hard is it to figure out a child shouldn't be drinking milk!? It certainly does not take a medical degree. Anyway she stopped giving me regular milk and started with soy. I didn't get sick anymore. Wow thank you doctors you could have killed me. Once I was about 2 though the bottle/sipy cup idea was not acceptable in my mind. I guess I didn't want to be different. After all, I was the only one not drinking from a grown up peoples glass. I wasn't even big enough or strong enough for a grown up glass but I didn't really care. I was stubborn. My way or the high way. My mom couldn't even force me to eat things I didn't want to with out physical force. Some parents give their kids what they want because the parent doesn't want the kid to fight or cry. With me though, you could send me to my room without dinner, but it wasn't going to work. I liked to play who gives in first, and I was usually determined it wouldn't be me (yeah really not much has changed). I would go to my room without dinner. Fine by me. Eventually my mother would give in and give me whatever I would eat because she can't exactly let me starve. That's child neglect. And I was too stubborn to fight with. I wasn't THAT bad though. I liked some veggies and fruits and various things that were healthy. I was picky but not too bad. I know it sounds like I was terrible, but I really wasn't. Yes, a few times I played the game who gives in first at the dinner table but not often. My mom didn't really try to get me to eat weird stuff because I was getting fruits and veggies, so it wasn't necessary I loved sweet potatoes and broccoli and corn and berries and tomatoes and apples and peaches and cantelope etc.
There were a few other major signs that I wasn't quite right though. One time when I was really young (not sure the exact age, but probably three or four), I was at a family picnic at my dads parents house. I call them grandma and grandpop/pa/dad. We were outside and my grandpa was grilling. I walked right into the side of the grill and burned a large portion of my arm. My mom was panicking and freaking out. I on the other hand was completely calm. I wasn't crying or anything. I didn't even seem to realize my arm was burned!
Another thing was my behavior in preschool. I went to a private baptist school from 3k through kindergarten In 3k I was quiet. I didn't talk to anyone. I kept to myself in the corner. I was really shy. I wasn't very responsive. I didn't really smile. I was a good student, but I was odd. In 4k, I was completely different. I wasn't always responsive, but I was hyper and I talked. I occasionally played with other kids. I moved around a lot. I was the complete opposite. It is kinda strange. I tended to go back and forth like that sometimes throughout, though never quite that extreme again.
In Kindergarten, I had this mean teacher. She hated children. The only time she was actually nice was kindergarten graduation when she wrote things in these mini pink bibles that were given to us. I think she was just glad to get rid of us.
After that teacher, my parents switched me to public school. And that is when all hell broke loose.
I guess I will start out with where everything began, my birth. It's not technically where everything began because everything began when the universe started, which eventually led up to my parents birth, which led to mine, but I'm not going back that far, so I will start at birth. (Though throughout my writings I will probably readdress years and skip around, but birth seems to be a good start.) Mind you, I'm obviously not telling you about the first four years from my own memory, but from the memories of others who knew me.
I was born on August 14, 1993. I am the only child my mom ever had. She was 30, when after years of trying, I finally showed up. There were obvious signs that I was different from the beginning, but even more after I was born. My mom new when I was born something wasn't quite right, but the doctors wouldn't listen. They just said my mom didn't know what she was talking about because she was a first time mother. First time or not, mothers still have instincts, and hers were right. I don't entirely blame the doctors though because very little was know about the disorders I have back in 1993. I wasn't severe enough to really raise an eyebrow. Still, mothers instincts didn't need a psychologist to tell her is some fancy wording that something wasn't quite right.
I didn't really cry. My mothers parents, I call them nana and papa, went to see me in the nursery. I was the only newborn baby that was not sound asleep. Yep, even then I didn't care for sleep. Now, babies are not supposed to be able to see or move their heads much, but apparently I didn't get the memo. My nana recalls that I moved around looking at things as though I could see. Maybe I could see. I don't remember. But I had my head lifted and was turning this way and that as if trying to look around and take in my surroundings. Meanwhile, all the other newborns were sleeping, which is what I was supposed to be doing..
I wasn't slow to learn. I ran before I walked and walked before I crawled. Apparently I wasn't thrilled with doing things in the right order either. I also didn't sleep. Newborns generally sleep three hours and are awake for one. At best, I was asleep for one hour and awake for three. I never really grew out of that....
The weirdest thing to me was that no one really knows what my first word was or when I began to talk. I wasn't interested in advertising it. I didn't start late, in fact I still started early, but how I started is what's strange. See, my mom didn't think I could talk. When other people were around, I didn't. My mom found out I could talk on accident. One day she was walking by my room and I had one of those toys that speaks. (Now days, what baby toy doesn't speak!?). I was repeating what the toy was saying. So apparently I knew how to talk. I didn't actually start talking in the presence of others until I was able to say several words and even some short sentences. I didn't want anyone to know I could do it until I felt I was good at it. I guess that much never really changed.
I also hated baby stuff. I did not want that stupid sippy cup or those silly baby utensils or anything like that. Nope, I wanted the stuff the adults had. At first I used a bottle of course. I didn't drink milk though because I was allergic, even though at first the doctors didn't think I was. I got sick every time I drank milk. My mom took me to the doctor but the first time, they basically implied she didn't know anything about babies because she was a first time mom. Again with the first time mom thing!!! It's not like doctors were around throughout all of history. At one point a mother relied on her instincts A mother just knows, first time or not. And how hard is it to figure out a child shouldn't be drinking milk!? It certainly does not take a medical degree. Anyway she stopped giving me regular milk and started with soy. I didn't get sick anymore. Wow thank you doctors you could have killed me. Once I was about 2 though the bottle/sipy cup idea was not acceptable in my mind. I guess I didn't want to be different. After all, I was the only one not drinking from a grown up peoples glass. I wasn't even big enough or strong enough for a grown up glass but I didn't really care. I was stubborn. My way or the high way. My mom couldn't even force me to eat things I didn't want to with out physical force. Some parents give their kids what they want because the parent doesn't want the kid to fight or cry. With me though, you could send me to my room without dinner, but it wasn't going to work. I liked to play who gives in first, and I was usually determined it wouldn't be me (yeah really not much has changed). I would go to my room without dinner. Fine by me. Eventually my mother would give in and give me whatever I would eat because she can't exactly let me starve. That's child neglect. And I was too stubborn to fight with. I wasn't THAT bad though. I liked some veggies and fruits and various things that were healthy. I was picky but not too bad. I know it sounds like I was terrible, but I really wasn't. Yes, a few times I played the game who gives in first at the dinner table but not often. My mom didn't really try to get me to eat weird stuff because I was getting fruits and veggies, so it wasn't necessary I loved sweet potatoes and broccoli and corn and berries and tomatoes and apples and peaches and cantelope etc.
There were a few other major signs that I wasn't quite right though. One time when I was really young (not sure the exact age, but probably three or four), I was at a family picnic at my dads parents house. I call them grandma and grandpop/pa/dad. We were outside and my grandpa was grilling. I walked right into the side of the grill and burned a large portion of my arm. My mom was panicking and freaking out. I on the other hand was completely calm. I wasn't crying or anything. I didn't even seem to realize my arm was burned!
Another thing was my behavior in preschool. I went to a private baptist school from 3k through kindergarten In 3k I was quiet. I didn't talk to anyone. I kept to myself in the corner. I was really shy. I wasn't very responsive. I didn't really smile. I was a good student, but I was odd. In 4k, I was completely different. I wasn't always responsive, but I was hyper and I talked. I occasionally played with other kids. I moved around a lot. I was the complete opposite. It is kinda strange. I tended to go back and forth like that sometimes throughout, though never quite that extreme again.
In Kindergarten, I had this mean teacher. She hated children. The only time she was actually nice was kindergarten graduation when she wrote things in these mini pink bibles that were given to us. I think she was just glad to get rid of us.
After that teacher, my parents switched me to public school. And that is when all hell broke loose.
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