Were You Ever So Homesick It Hurt?
Did it ever happen when you were across the street from your house?
I read a story this morning in the New York Times about what they call “sleepunders” or “lateovers”. Parents of youngsters these days face much more anxiety when their kids are out of their sight. The trend is to have a parent stay overnight or pick them up late. When I went to a sleepover, my mom (my dad was not involved in most of the child-rearing because this was in the olden days of the 1960s) didn’t have to ask about guns in the house or “bodily autonomy” or technology use. I’m pretty sure she stopped the car to let me out, or maybe she taught me that jump-out-and-roll technique. She was busy. I can picture her peeling out while tossing my bo-bo bear out the window for me. (I have a tremendous imagination.)
One time in particular, in grade school, I walked across the street to the neighbors for my first sleepover. Marcy was my new best friend. I adored her and her family. There were older sisters we could annoy and spy on! They had dinner all at the same time! Sometimes, we had frozen dinners on TV trays! It was AWESOME. Back then, you could eat anything! It didn’t have to be sugar-free, gluten-free, pastured cows or chickens with college educations, organic veggies, organic EVERYTHING. Of course, I was setting myself up for terrible gut issues later (due to Celiac Disease). But as I was eating my blueberry muffin and damaging my small intestine, I was having FUN FUN FUN.
Marcy also got to wear cool medals from her church around her neck and had to do something called “chores.” I yearned for structure, and for a long time, I even lied about having to leave playing at some kid’s house because I had to go home and do chores. (This tactic also helped if I was overwhelmed like a good little neurodivergent child.)
Still off track, Mawde.
Oh! What was I supposed to be writing about? (Scrolls up to check title.) Oh yeah! Homesickness!
I thought a sleepover at Marcy’s would be a hoot. We could eat our Swanson’s in front of the TV, watch some Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C., then perhaps make a fort out of the cool round thing they hung the laundry on.
MAWDE! Stick to the story!
Yes yes yes.
So, fort building, a game of Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher (I was always Tom, and many adventures ensued) or Chutes and Ladders, followed by a nighttime snack before bed of graham crackers and milk. Because nothing says relax like sugar and wheat! The sugar would remind me of home and my nightly snack of a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. (No wonder I was plagued with night terrors.) Below is the very first commercial of my childhood favorite captain. He was irresistible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZSjFtdKcCU
Marcy’s mom was Mrs. Cleaver to me. (She’s a character on an ancient TV show called Leave it to Beaver — the perfect mother and housewife who wore pearls while vacuuming.) There were two beds in Marcy’s room, while her sister, with whom she shared the room, doubled up with another sister. They were perfectly made — like with military precision. Under her pillow was a carefully folded nightgown. I was confused because Marcy left her underpants on. My mom always said the body needs to breathe! No bedtime underpants! But I was a guest. When at Marcy’s house, do as Marcy do!
Lights out.
I snuggled into the somewhat starchy sheets. I was already feeling an uneasy ache in my gut. The fact that there was a nightlight so that I could see the TERRIFYING EVIL GOBLIN CAT CLOCK on the wall sealed my fate.
Its devil eyes looked back and forth with each tick of the second hand. But as the fiendish eyes passed the center, it seemed like they looked right at me.
Nope. Not doing this.
With the pain in my gut increasing from being in unfamiliar territory and seeing how I was about to be possessed by a plastic satan cat clock, I whispered to Marcy I wanted to go home. I don’t know what she and her mom thought, but I quietly got dressed and tried to make the bed. Then, like a thief in the night, I RAN back across the street to my house, sure the monster clock had ripped itself off from the wall, grew hideous fangs, with its googly eyes flashing, and was chasing me.
We still remained friends, though!
Maybe if not for the clock, I would have been fine, but as soon as I got in bed, I felt uneasy. I also used to have nightmares about the Dragon, Ollie, in Kukla, Fran and Ollie.
In my nightmare, he would appear out of my bedroom wall to drag me into who knows where. His lair? Another dimension? Why was I allowed to watch The Twilight Zone?? As he only had one tooth and was made of felt, you’d think I could have fought him off.
Thanks for stopping by! There may be more sleepover nightmare stories, but those are for another time.
And now, boys and girls, it’s time for links!
I used the article below and was surprised to find that Celiac Disease can have neurological effects, like anemia (which I had) and ADHD (which I have).
Here’s Kukla, Fran, and Ollie. As you can see, Ollie viciously attacks Kulka, totally unprovoked.
If you’re a statistician type or just like information in a very dry form, this is the link for you!
https://www2.census.gov/prod2/popscan/p60-051.pdf.
Hope to see you around Medium. 🦋
