Let's Pretend I Never Told You This

Jenny Lawson’s memoir Let’s Pretend This Never Happened has inspired me to write this blog post. Lawson’s memoir is full of hilarious, bizarre stories from her childhood and adulthood. Hilarious in an I’m glad that never happened to me way, bizarre in a falling into animal carcasses, setting ovens on fire way. Lawson prefaces the book by saying that whenever she starts in about her childhood, people act like they understand: “Oh yeah, my family was totally crazy.” Not this crazy, people. Not this crazy.

I’ve decided to reminisce about some of my favorite (euphemism for “worst”) memories. I may not have enough harrowing stories to fill a book, but I certainly have enough to write a blog post.

I was a suicidal baby. What a terrible life it was. Being spoon-fed my Cheerios, having someone else wipe my derrière, playing with my stuffed goat William all day. I can hardly stand talking about it now. So you’ll understand why I decided to end my life one night when my mother set my car seat and me on the kitchen counter. An opportunity had presented itself, and I rocked my way off the edge and splat onto the floor. Split my chin wide open. And I have the scar to prove it.

I was the only child kleptomaniac at my preschool. "I was a child kleptomaniac" is probably sufficient on its own, but what the hell. When you get over the shock factor, hopefully you’ll realize how awesome this makes me. I had a system: watch patiently and listen intently to all my friends during show-and-tell, take mental notes of the coolest toys, then sneak into the backpack room during recess and search out the goods. I got away with it for probably a good year before the “I won it at school” thing stopped working on my parents. Then I started stealing cat ears from Kohl’s . . . but that’s behind me now. 

I kicked my sister down the stairs. Don’t worry, she lived. And she totally deserved it. She CUT the ear of my favorite stuffed animal. Clover the bunny screamed in pain and I came to her rescue. And then I avenged her.

I could go on indefinitely, but I think I’ll stop there for the night. The pleasant memories just make me too giddy before bed.

Bonus: CHILDHOOD PICTURE TIME!

With the little sister I pushed down the stairs.

My relationship with my grandma hasn't changed much.

The moment I stopped being patriotic.

I'm glad I can share my awkwardly personal stories with you, internet, and I hope you can relate. I'm not saying I would wish childhood kleptomania on anyone; I just hope you can relate to the bizarre sequence of events that is growing up. What a fun, scary, and painful time.