Stories From Your Childhood

Kyle Reed // @kylereed

Last Sunday I was reminded of a story that I have never told anyone until now. As I was standing by the coffee machines talking to some friends that I had not seen for while I happened to look over to my left and see a kid that didn’t look so good. He was about 9 years old and had that look of a kid at an amusement park who had to much cotton candy and just got off the worst roller coaster ride of his life. Needless to say, he did what I thought he would do….throw up. But, this little guy played it cool. In a room full of about 300 people he managed to keep this a secret, well at least it was our little secret. He knew what was happening, and so he headed to the trash can right next to the coffee machines and started to unload. It was one of those moments where you want to look away but you can’t. I stood there and watched as he threw up into the trash can and then looked around to see if anyone noticed and walked away. It was like he was an old pro at throwing up. After watching him do his business I was reminded of a story that happened to me when I was in second grade.

I went to North County Christian School during the day and in the afternoon I was one of several kids that went to the after care. The day that this upchucking kid reminded me of was a miserable day. From the early morning I was not feeling well at all. I went to the office to call my mom to have her come and pick me up. Now my Mom is one of those Moms that does not let their kids miss school for anything. Needless to say, she was not leaving work to come and pick up her child  (I had tried this trick a couple of times before, this time I really did feel sick). I made it all the way to about 430 when my mom arrived to pick me and my little sister up to go home. I remember being in a hurry to get to the car. I had that nauseous feeling and the room would not stop spinning. All I can remember is telling my mom I was going to the car to lay down. I left her where she picked up my sister and headed towards the lobby to go out to the parking lot. Now North County Christian School was also a church. And this lobby was your typical 1990’s lobby. Tile lined the floors and a bunch of fake plants lined the walls. On my way out through the lobby I finally figured out why I was feeling so bad, I needed to throw up. In the middle of the church lobby I threw up everywhere. Relived that I finally got it out of my system but bummed that I threw up I was faced with a major decision. Do I continue my journey to the car? Do I go to the bathroom in case of another sudden arrival of disaster (aka puke). Or do I go back to my mom and tell her what happened? I chose the last option, but with a twist. I went back to my mom and stood by the door of where she was picking up my sister. But I played it cool, acting like nothing happened. Five minutes later we had my sister and where ready to go home. We headed towards puke zone and I had to make an important decision, tell the truth to her before she stumbled upon the mess or pretend like I had no clue what happened. As we walked into the lobby the janitor had already made his way onto the scene. His name was Mr Hit. Mr Hit was an old grisly man that had the belly of Santa Claus and the smell of all grandpa’s…old spice. He looked at my mom and then at me and asked if we knew who did this? We admired the projectory of the “goods” and then I played it cool and pretended to have no clue. How much can a second grade kid know right? My mom as well did not have any answers for Mr Hit and so we continued on our journey towards the car and I left the thing(s) that was making me feel bad all day behind for Mr. Hit to deal with.

I never told my mom that it was me that threw up in the lobby. Mainly because I didn’t want to have to clean it up. I figured that she would want to use it as a life lesson or something like that and make me go back in there and help. All I wanted to do was get home and watch some TV. Sorry about that Mr Hit.
I have never told anyone that it was me that puked in the lobby of North County Christian School in 1995.
Why? I do not know.
I guess I never had a reason to tell this memorable day from second grade. At least that was until I witnessed a kid throw up in a trash can in a room of 300 people and not have anyone notice.

Do you have a story from your childhood that you have never told?

*kyle

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Kyle Reed

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Kyle Reed is a connector looking to connect with others. A 20 Something that is blogging his way through life and looking to connect through community. Also a team member of the 8BIT Network and brand evangelist. Find me on twitter: @kylelreed, lets chat.
  • http://twitter.com/ShelbyisRad Shelby Radovich

    I can't think of a story I never told anyone, like not a single one. hmmm I guess its cause i've always like to talk so much and I tell everything haha

    • http://thoughtsaboutnothing.com @kylelreed

      Okay how about a funny story from your childhood?

  • ampersand86

    LOL! Awww, poor kid! I would have probably done the same thing, to be honest.

    Here's my story:

    I was one of those kids that was into drawing/coloring/painting/whatever from the get go. I didn't do the Barbie thing or the house thing, I always played Book Illustrator (I think geekiness is genetic) and wrote and illustrated my own books. Seriously.

    Anyway, one day when I was in the third grade (read: old enough to know better) my mom bought me a picture book on the Sistine Chapel. We homeschooled so hands-on, trial by error learning was encouraged in my home and we had lots of little educational books like that laying around. Well, I loved the angels and starry skies and all of the beautiful pictures on the ceiling so I decided I wanted to replicate it. So I climbed on top of my Lil' Tykes easel and drew angels and stars and clouds on the dropped ceiling in our basement.

    When my mom came downstairs and saw it, then me with marker ink all over my fingers and up my arms innocently doing my math homework on the other side of the room, she decided it would be a good opportunity to test my character. When she asked me where the drawing on the ceiling came from, I told her it was my younger sister who didn't have a) the height, even on top of a Lil Tykes easel b) the art skillz as a first grader or c) the cunning to figure out how to get up there, and my mom knew that.

    I got my butt BLISTERED! Not really. But I did get whooped. For the record, I never admitted to doing it. EVER. Even this past Christmas my mom brought it up and I denied it (of course, we're all grownups so we know it was me — my sister grew up so left brain it's not even funny, so standing on an easel to draw on the ceiling wouldn't make enough sense for her to even consider it).

    :-)

    • ampersand86

      PS – I couldn't hook up my openID (disqus confuses me), but you can catch me on twitter at @ampersand86 or on my blog at bouncebouncesplat.wordpress.com.

    • http://thoughtsaboutnothing.com @kylelreed

      Thats funny. I have had many of those moments.
      I will share another one later today.
      Thanks for sharing.

      Do you use those skills today?

      • ampersand86

        LOL I don't know if I'd call them skills. I'm an art program drop out… I have a problem with people telling me what to do, especially when it comes to my creative endeavors. I realized that if I had that much of a problem with my professors telling me what to create, I wouldn't be able to tolerate my boss doing it either. But I still love it and I paint every once in a while… I just feel, I don't know how to explain it. So I changed my major to what I'm studying now, psych.

        After having something so personal to me picked apart (even if it did better my craft), I feel like I lost a part of myself in the process so it's hard for me to produce like I used to. I still write every day though.

        • http://thoughtsaboutnothing.com @kylelreed

          Well don't take this as me telling you what to do just something that came to my head as I was reading this…maybe you would be interested in becoming an Art Therapist?

          • ampersand86

            Funny you should mention that — I'm playing with the idea! Its so fascinating what a child's drawings can tell you about their emotional state and stage of development… It'll tell you so many things that they can't or won't tell you themselves.

            Love your blog! I'm not quite sure how I stumbled upon it (maybe MPT's blog somewhere along the line?) but it's great!

            • http://thoughtsaboutnothing.com @kylelreed

              Thanks I appreciate it. Glad you found your way here.

  • http://gbrenna.com/ Graham

    Can't think of one I've never told off the top of my head. But I do have a puke story. The scene: 5th grade classroom. The hour: right after lunch. The skinny: I was sitting at my desk listening to the teacher talk about something math related and I decided I needed to hurl. So I got up and started running for the door. I didn't make it out the door but my puke did. Good thing too! The classrooms had carpet but the hallways had tile! WIN!

    • http://thoughtsaboutnothing.com @kylelreed

      That is awesome. If you are going to throw up might as well make a sport out of it.

      • http://gbrenna.com/ Graham

        And that Family Guy episode quickly comes to mind where they're all trying to be the last one to hurl. Too funny!

  • GaryMReed

    I've got a lot of stories about you son which you do not even know about. How about the reason why your kindergarten teacher Mrs Farmer put your desk in front of hers? She said when you sat in front of her was how she kept your attention.

    Something few know about me is all the fights I got into as a kid in grade school and several flagrant fouls in basketball. Not something I tell my admirers.

  • Kennedy Westcott

    I have basically lived a mixed childhood just the average high school student all though there are some rough edges first let’s start from the beginning of time I was diagnosed with autism and adhd , all because of this medicine my mom took while she was pregnant, now as time grew on things started to to pretty bad, every time I did something wrong he didn’t like he would grab me by the arms and yell in my face, I remember always leaving and going to my room after he did that going into a fetal position and basically have a panick attack, when my mom was introduced to all these new dtugs as she does have epilepsy and diabties she would overdose like every month, and sometimes she wouldn’t take care of hereself so me and my sister had to grow up and baby sit the 40 year old woman that’s so called my mother, but the horrible life didnt stop there I remember all these things I wanted after my bed caught on fire ( which the same grandma who had yelled at me for not helping around the house when basically I was my mother’s slave, my sister didn’t even have to do anything and she would get praised, but that’s not the point when my bed caught on fire my so called grandma thought I did something to it to make it because it was totally not the fricken fourtey year old bed heater she gave me) well anyways I got a new bedding for my bed and it was zebra with purple, and when we moved to this house I was in a room that a five year old was in so I have clouded painted on my ceiling and baby blue walls with purple zebra bedding yes that matches, OK anyways so my mom was all like we will get this room repainted for you and guess what has not gotten done yet my fricken walls a and here I sit as a fifteen year old with babyish walls ( another fact when my bed burned down it was the day before Christmas eve and my mom was on her overdose needs, so she fell on Christmas eve and she went to the pharmacy to get more pills and ended up ruining our Christmas day) OK now onto my sister she basically gets anything she wants my parents told her she had to show responsibility before my other grandma could buy her a car but she never showed responsibility but she still has the car, and then I wanted to get a puppy but my parents and grandma and I didn’t and I never got the puppy I wasn’t as crushed as not getting the puppy as I was how unfair and unequal they were being, my sister can basically walk around talking like a truck driver and she would still be able to hang out with friends, I know if I did that I would never see a bit of sunlight again, and another thing she loves my grandma that Is the only one whom loves me in my family just for her money, I remember just this year we got new laptops and phones and she got a better laptop I did and its only fair but the world revolves around my sister, my sister would also hurt me and beat me up and call me a bitch and tell me to shut the hell up, my own friends don’t even want to hang out with me, and to make matters worse kids are mean and calling me anorexic ugly and say I am starving myself and they said it in front of a teacher and she did nothing about it, my point is is that I am tired of hiding the tears, I am tired of saying I’m OK when I am not I will not go to counseling I refuse to and I gave up I just gave up no matter what I say or do it is a screw up so I feel like running away from this whole family somewhere far where no one will find me but I know I cant