Since I don't have anything exciting to post, I thought I would start a new series of posts. A friend I follow has been doing this for some time correlating with her book writing blog. I'm just doing it because I feel like my past blogs have been snoozers, and I like to blog.
Each post will chronicle a year or portion of my life.
So, the first post will be about my birth and my name.
My mom always told me how horrible it was the last little while that she was pregnant with me. It was late July, early August in Denver. The hottest time of the year! Our family was preparing to move to Idaho Falls and she was anxious to birth before they moved.
I'm not sure if people still do this, but she said she would drink Castor oil in massive amounts trying to induce me to come. I was just reading about Castor oil on Wikipedia, and I don't know how she did that, because it doesn't sound that nice, pleasant, or even safe! It's a wonder I wasn't a special baby! No comments please.
I was born on August 5, 1982, early in the morning. Second of two kids. Older brother Chris (Christopher). I was born with LOTS of long black hair. My mom told me once she thought she had had an Indian baby. I'm not sure how politically correct that is. Anyway, my family packed up and moved to Idaho Falls when I was only a week old. My mom always tells about how the cat, with the litter box on the floor, a three year old, and a brand new baby made for a very long drive. But they made it. We lived across the street from Rose Hill Cemetery in Idaho Falls for a year or so before moving to Shelley. As a side note, my good friend Anna lived in the same apartment for several years with her kids. It was kind of cool to go visit her and know I lived there when I was just little!
I was a crier. I know you are all surprised because you've all met me and know how I never cry*. I would cry all day long, all night long. My poor mother. One day a nosey/concerned neighbor called Child Protective Services because they thought something horrible was going one. I cried the entire time the lady was there, and she left without any further investigation.
My full name was Jennifer Lenda. I think from day one I've strongly dislike the name Jennifer. At least for me. Others it's fine, but I don't feel like it fits. I don't think Jenny does either, but that's a different story. My mom always told me that my brother and I's names were always just a given and they didn't have to think too hard about it. When I had some say in it I wanted people to call me Jenny. My dad tried to make it a little more spicy by spelling it Jenney. On some of my Kindergarten papers that's how it's spelled. I think once I could write and spell, I took care of that. When I would meet new people and I would tell them my name, they would say, "You have two first names!" No I didn't. That drove me nuts. And nothing against anyone in my family, but I was elated to change it when I got married. I even contemplated officially changing from Jennifer to Jenny. I SO wish I had!! I just hate it on the church records, bank accounts, social security stuff, doctors forms, etc. And I hate when they call me from waiting rooms as Jennifer. Even when I put my preferred name. A lifelong battle.
As we are only renting our house, our photo albums are out in the garage. I'll try and wrangle up some pictures for upcoming posts.
*Strong sarcasm intended here. I cry at everything.
So, the first post will be about my birth and my name.
My mom always told me how horrible it was the last little while that she was pregnant with me. It was late July, early August in Denver. The hottest time of the year! Our family was preparing to move to Idaho Falls and she was anxious to birth before they moved.
I'm not sure if people still do this, but she said she would drink Castor oil in massive amounts trying to induce me to come. I was just reading about Castor oil on Wikipedia, and I don't know how she did that, because it doesn't sound that nice, pleasant, or even safe! It's a wonder I wasn't a special baby! No comments please.
I was born on August 5, 1982, early in the morning. Second of two kids. Older brother Chris (Christopher). I was born with LOTS of long black hair. My mom told me once she thought she had had an Indian baby. I'm not sure how politically correct that is. Anyway, my family packed up and moved to Idaho Falls when I was only a week old. My mom always tells about how the cat, with the litter box on the floor, a three year old, and a brand new baby made for a very long drive. But they made it. We lived across the street from Rose Hill Cemetery in Idaho Falls for a year or so before moving to Shelley. As a side note, my good friend Anna lived in the same apartment for several years with her kids. It was kind of cool to go visit her and know I lived there when I was just little!
I was a crier. I know you are all surprised because you've all met me and know how I never cry*. I would cry all day long, all night long. My poor mother. One day a nosey/concerned neighbor called Child Protective Services because they thought something horrible was going one. I cried the entire time the lady was there, and she left without any further investigation.
My full name was Jennifer Lenda. I think from day one I've strongly dislike the name Jennifer. At least for me. Others it's fine, but I don't feel like it fits. I don't think Jenny does either, but that's a different story. My mom always told me that my brother and I's names were always just a given and they didn't have to think too hard about it. When I had some say in it I wanted people to call me Jenny. My dad tried to make it a little more spicy by spelling it Jenney. On some of my Kindergarten papers that's how it's spelled. I think once I could write and spell, I took care of that. When I would meet new people and I would tell them my name, they would say, "You have two first names!" No I didn't. That drove me nuts. And nothing against anyone in my family, but I was elated to change it when I got married. I even contemplated officially changing from Jennifer to Jenny. I SO wish I had!! I just hate it on the church records, bank accounts, social security stuff, doctors forms, etc. And I hate when they call me from waiting rooms as Jennifer. Even when I put my preferred name. A lifelong battle.
As we are only renting our house, our photo albums are out in the garage. I'll try and wrangle up some pictures for upcoming posts.
*Strong sarcasm intended here. I cry at everything.
