Reflecting on My Childhood: Early Memories, Funny Stories, and Life Lessons

I've been thinking a lot about my childhood lately. I realize I don't often talk about it, or when I do, it's just snippets here and there—tiny memories that pop up unexpectedly, some good, some not so great. But today, I want to share one of my earliest memories.

I must have been around three or four years old at the time. You see, I was adopted at three, and this memory is from around that time, maybe a little after. I remember my aunt giving me a gift for my birthday—these cute little Minnie Mouse earrings. They weren't anything fancy, probably something you'd find at Walmart, but they came as part of a set with a matching necklace. I had just gotten my ears pierced, so these new earrings felt extra special. I might have also gotten one of those pairs of chunky plastic play heels, the kind you run around in as a kid. The earrings were meant to be my new school accessory, something to wear when I started school. This memory always brings a smile to my face because it reminds me that I did have happy moments growing up.

Not every memory from my childhood is like that, though. I no longer talk to my adoptive family; we've lost all contact, and that's a story for another time. But for now, I want to highlight that my entire childhood wasn’t bad—there were good times, too.

Another interesting story about my childhood is that I repeated the first grade. To this day, I'm not entirely sure why. The story goes that my mother thought I was too small to move up to the second grade with the other kids. She felt I was too petite and wanted me to stay back a year to give me time to "grow." It’s such an odd reason to hold a child back, isn't it? As far as I know, I didn’t fail first grade. At least, no one ever told me that. But it’s funny looking back at it now, thinking about being held back simply because I was too small.

Then there was that wild day when I set a puppet ablaze. I went to the gas stove myself, turned on the flame, and just decided it needed to be set on fire. My mom saw me, turned off the fire immediately, and asked why I did it. I told her the puppet talked back to me. My mom was trying so hard not to laugh but was also so confused. She sent me to tell my dad, who was just as perplexed. I don't remember how they punished me, but looking back, it must have been quite the dilemma for them. What do you say to a kid who sets something on fire and claims it talked back?

Another fun fact about my childhood: I never learned to ride a bike as a kid. I didn't learn until I was an adult, thanks to a boyfriend who taught me. As a child, I struggled to transition from training wheels to two wheels. I had a pretty bad fall one day—hit the sidewalk, went flying over, and hurt myself quite badly, even in places you don’t want to imagine. I was crying so much, and my mom, who was trying to teach me, eventually gave up. She said, “If you don’t want to learn, I won’t teach you,” and that was it. I was fine with that at the time and just never got back on a bike again.

It’s funny looking back at that and realizing there were a few things I never pursued as a child just because they were hard or because I didn’t like them initially. My mom would just say, “Okay, forget it,” and I’d never get another chance. I guess that’s one thing I’m determined not to do with my daughter. I’m not going to force her to do things she doesn’t want to, but I’m also going to encourage her to keep trying, to understand that it takes practice and patience to get better at something. You don’t always succeed on the first try, and that’s okay.

I don’t know why I’m feeling so reflective today, but I guess I just wanted to share some of these memories. Growing up was a mix of fun and challenges, and these are just a few of the moments that stand out to me.

In my next blog entry, I think I'll talk about what it was like growing up in a Black family, because not many people know that about me. Yes, I was adopted, but the family I was adopted into was Black, not Latinx. I didn’t grow up in a Latinx household, which is another unique experience of mine. But that’s a story for another time.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this little trip down memory lane!