I’ve been putting off writing about the high school years, if you couldn’t tell. High school was pretty good but is a bit overwhelming to write about. I want to write it for me but also make it internet worthy. Here’s a little peak into my high school years.

I made better choices in high school than I did in Jr High. I stopped sneaking around, I became friends with my parents and even made better choices as far as the boys are concerned. I think my sophomore year was for the most part spent single until the end.

In the spring of Sophomore year, a kind and caring senior boy scooped me up and took care of me. I met him running track. He showed me how dating should happen (he waited until I turned 16 to ask me out.) We had fun. He cared about who I was, where I was going, and took notice of things I liked to do. I stuck with him through my Jr year even though he’d graduated. I wrote to him while he went on his LDS mission. A lot of my friends and family wondered why I stuck with this guy. We weren’t very much alike, perhaps opposites, but ya know what- he was nice. He was good for me. Looking back, I don’t regret dating him. He’s a sensitive guy, so out of respect I’m posting no pictures nor telling any stories. Sorry.

There is something you need to know about Utah schools and Mormons -there are tons of dances and everyone goes. When dating someone seriously you are allowed -pretty much expected- to date others; particularly when going to dances. We never went with the same boy twice. I can not tell you how many dances we had. Tons! I have two huge scrapbooks filled with dance pictures. Life seemed to revolve around dances. We probably always had our hearts set on certain boys asking us but if someone else asked us we’d always say yes. That was another unwritten rule. You always say yes to whoever asked you first. If you experienced these Utah dances then you know what I’m talking about. Down right fun.

Asking someone to a dance was a whole affair in and of itself. It involves dropping some weird thing at the door and running for it. (ie, drop off a plant with a diaper wrapped around it and green peas inside. “I would Pea my Plants if you’d go with me to the dance.”) Your name or answer would then be hidden inside and have to be decoded.

High school was so fun. I really hate saying that because I think a lot of people have horrible experiences but I really only have fond memories. My circle of friends doubled or tripled. I even developed some best friends. My cousin, Sara, transferred to my school and as scared as I was to let her into my world, it turned out great.

Diving really took off for me. I loved it. I dreamed of it. Chlorine was my new perfume. I think it was a great place for me to spend my time and get my energy out. It was something I was pretty good at and could feel proud about. I progressed fast at first but finally hit a point where I just couldn’t do much more. After that, it took a lot of hard work to advance into harder difficulty levels. The challenge was still exciting and I remember coming home bruised from slapping (ie. belly flopping) so many times.

By my senior year I was finally ranked in the top ten of the state. At the state competition I had a chance at the top 6 but over-rotated on my double reverse, placing me at 11th. Bummer, but it was pretty cool to even get that close. I probably could have gone on and dove in college but I decided that I didn’t want to give my life to it. It would have possessed me. 2 Practices a day! No way, that wasn’t for me. I like freedom. It was a fun little sport though and even now it’s fun to go to the public pools, do a few basic dives and get gawked at.

Diving was a fall/winter sport so in the spring I ran track. It wasn’t my passion but it was something for me to do. I sprinted. Purely because I didn’t think I could do long distances. I wasn’t that fast though for a sprinter. I was able to be on the relay teams but could never hold my own in a race by myself. My relay teams made it to state a few times. I was never the last leg though. Always the first or second but I didn’t care. It was fun enough.

My sophomore year my track coach asked me if I wanted to represent our school/city and go to Taiwan to run in an international track meet there. They needed a 15 year old girl and boy. Of course I said yes! It was the most surreal experience. I went all the way around the world at 15 with a bunch of strangers (believe me, my coach was strange.)

We did very little running, mostly sight seeing and eating. When it came to running the race, it was very intimidating. There were tons of people and cameras in my face. It was like I was a celebrity. But really it was because I was the only one with “blonde” hair.

I totally lost my race. Dead last. I wanted to die. I flew all the way around the world to come in last. Arggg… get me out of here!! Ya, that was humiliating but the country was cool… and I can always say I went to Taiwan when I was 15 to run in their international track meet. Doesn’t that sound cool!

My senior year was the best. It was so super fun. I was dating a new super fun boy and had a awesome group of friends. Dreams were coming true that I hadn’t even dreamed of. Life wasn’t perfect but now that I’m writting this I’m surprised by how well it was going for little ole me. I was able to sing in the elite choir (who knew I could even sing), nominated for royalty a few times, and on the seminary council. Wowzers! What a year. (I’m trying not to brag, really!)

When it came to applying to colleges, I was kind of clueless. Maybe I was a head-full-of-fluff kind of girl. I had no idea where I wanted to go or what I could possibly do with myself. My dad said you can go to either BYU or Ricks. So I picked Ricks, the furthest one away. It was a sad day when I found out that I was not accepted. My friends had been accepted and that made it worse. I had good grades but had done poorly on my ACT’s (a lot of good taking choir, photography and swim classes did me!) Luckily I found a way to weasel myself in. If I did a summer semester at Ricks and did well, I’d be able to attend the fall semester…

So… this story will continue when I get around to writing the exciting, dramatic college years. Be excited -very excited. (ha, sense the sarcasm)

If you missed the earlier chapters of my life read them starting here.

I forgot to mention that in 5th and 6th grade I learned to lie to my parents about where I was going (they didn’t care for some of my friends) as well as sneak out my window. I thought I was pretty good at it because I rarely got caught.

…Well, okay, I can remember some very specific instances where I did get caught… Once I was on my way back to house, heading to jump over the fence and Dad jumped out of the bushes. I think my heart leaped out of my body that day. I was more mad about him scaring me than I was at him catching me. Another time I sat there lying to my parents about where I had been and all along they had already talked to my friends parent and knew the truth. I still sat there denying it…

So pre-adolescents was rough on me. Probably the hardest years on me in school. Trying to find my niche, learning who was a real friend and who wasn’t.

Jr High started. This is me in 7th grade. I remember my orange metal locker and who lockered next to me. I remember that I was “going out” with some popular hottie. I was quite uncomfortable with him and I don’t remember ever having much of a conversation with him. Once the popular hottie asked me to kiss him like a “real girlfriend” and I stood there gripping the handlebars of my bike like a scaredy cat. It felt like he waited for hours for me to kiss him but it was probably only a few minutes. I finally just pecked him and told him I had to go. I fled like my pants were on fire. Yikes! what was I doing? I surly didn’t feel very good about things.

My good friend and I started walking home from school. It was about a 2 mile walk and we started meeting other kids along the way. Once particular day there were two boys hollering at us. One was a redheaded freckle faced boy and the other a little tow head. They asked us our names and for some silly reason I told them my name was Amelia. Friendship began and the freckled face boy asked me out. I had a dilemma. I was still going out with Popular Hottie.

About that time, my great grandmother Amanda died and we were going on a trip to attend her funeral. I wrote Popular Hottie a note saying that I had to break up with him and then said yes to Freckle Faced Boy and then rushed out of town. I kind of felt like a weenie because I took the chicken way out with Popular Hottie and always felt bad about it. But… it was a turning point in my life though. Those long walks home from school changed my life.

You see, I changed friends. I stopped hanging out with the Sneaker Outters. I didn’t have to hop out of my window any more to be with them. I didn’t have to lie about where I was going and I was also very comfortable with Freckle Face. I loved those freckles and we had good times. Looking back I’d say those freckles saved my life. We went out for the rest of 7th grade and gosh, I think it must have been true love, as true as 12 year old love can be, because he wrote me the most romantic note ever!

“Dear Amelia- (he did know my real name but Amelia became a little pet name)

I’ve got something real important to talk to you about… I love you so much. I have never felt this way about anyone in my entire life. I can never stop thinking about you, not that I mind. If we were about 10 years older I would ask you to marry me. I love you so much. I never get sick or bored with you. Believe me I would rather not have anyone around when we walk home but I don’t think we have much choice since they spy on us and watch every move we make…

I have never been happier in my entire life since I’ve liked you. You are cute, pretty, attractive, stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, lovely, loving, sensitive, considerate to others, great personality, funny, intelligent, wonderful, everything I want in a girl and the girl I love so dearly. (I didn’t want to keep writing how cute you are. I would have to cut down the whole Brazilian rain forest and make paper from the trees to write what I like about you.)

…I will always love you. I can’t tell you how much I love you. I can’t express how much. There isn’t a word for it. I can’t sleep at night just thinking about you when I do sleep I dream about you. I love you….. (the note goes on for about another 10 I love yous.) Love, Freckle Faced Boy

P.S. I love you.”

I’m pretty sure he forgot that he wrote those words because at the end of 7th grade he called and broke up with me. I was stunned but okay with it.

Life continued and Freckle’s friend, we will call him Piano Boy, asked me out. I said yes because I couldn’t think of any reason not to. He was actually in my neighborhood. I knew his family quite well and took piano from him mom. We hung out at his house a lot. I remember that things were quite good for a while. I had a great group of girl friends and a fun boy to hang out with.

We spent the summers hanging out at the park and playing volleyball and tackle football. I loved thinking that I was tough enough to tackle the big boys.

The next two year are a blur to me. Yes, it was two years with Piano Boy. I remember the red 70’s shag rug in his basement, the smell of his house, and the sound of him playing the piano. I have saved a note from him as well but it kind of makes me want to ralph. Actually I don’t really want to write about it. I seem to have made myself forget.

The romance ended around the end of 9th grade. We were having a girls sleepover on the tramp and playing truth and dare. One girl said the Piano Boy had just asked her out that day. I was in totally shock because I had just been a Piano Boys house earlier that day. We marched on over to his house in those late night hours and rapped on his window. I remember how pitiful he looked sitting there with his sleepy, sunken head.

So that was the end, and I was happy to move on.

Besides all the boys stuff that happened to me, I had some other fun adventures. In 9th grade I began the Spring Board Diving team. You see, I really wanted to be a gymnast but not having the money, time or support for it I thought diving would be the perfect thing for me. I caught on naturally and remember the thrill of winning my first meet. We got to leave Jr High early to make it over to the high school for diving practice. It was a great outlet for me and I quit piano. (thank goodness!)

Alright, so I’m losing steam on doing my life history. I’m feeling like it actually might not be that interesting. I mean, come on, it’s just little ol’ me.

Okay, okay, I know this is for me -my history- right! so I want to do it. But the closer I get to Jr high the more overwhelmed I feel. I’m not sure how to tell all those stories. Arrggg…

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Kindergarten- All I remember is using huge over sized pencils, taking naps on blue mats and chasing a certain boy around the field and yelling at everyone to watch me kiss him.

1st grade- My favorite teacher ever! Ms. Murray. I thought she was so super hip. She turned up her collared shirts and had puffy 80’s hair. I was pretty involved in gymnastic. I was always to cartwheels and hand stands and felt like I was learning lots of cool tricks.

2nd grade- I had Ms. Murray again in a 1st and 2nd split. I really only remember doing some porcelain art project out in the hall way. Oh yea, I also remember being terrified of the principal. At assemblies he’d stand up front and count to 3 with his bony fingers and his other hand shut tight like a mouth. Yuk!

3rd grade- I remember staring at the times table chart and being completely overwhelmed and confused. The school boundaries changed so I went to a new school. A little scary but I was befriended quickly making it much easier. One of my new friends convinced me to “go out with” David- a boy I hardly knew. Nothing ever happened with that except we went to his house once and played on his swing set. I remember jamming out to Kokomo by the Beach Boys. I think it was our “song.” Waa woo.

4th grade- I started getting perms. I had a not so great teacher. Mrs. F. I remember her teaching us how to blow our noises and floss our teeth. She just had braces put on. I think we skipped making our Utah books. This was a big year for me though. I got to “go out with” Jay. He was the most popular boy to go out with. He had certainly had a thing for the girls. He went out with everyone. What a privilege. Ha. He was awesome at double dutch and would make heart shapes with his hands across the cafeteria. (rumors say he’s no longer straight.) One day I went to my friends house and he jumped out from behind the door and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Woozers. When I left my friend told me to kiss him goodbye so I went over and stuck my cheek in front of his face. he he! As if I knew what to do?? The relationship didn’t last long but it began my long history of boys…

5th grade- Mr. B was the worst. He was near retirement and was known for telling stories about playing the trumpet in the war. There was a huge rumor about him wiping boogies under his chair. I think we check a few times when he was out of the room. I swear it was true but maybe the boys had planted the green globs there. I remember tripping in the class room and stabbing the toughest girl in class in the back with a sharpened pencil. Ahhhhh– can we say lead poisoning!! Luckily she didn’t kill me. I also went out with Hockey boy. We met at the mall a few times and pretended to be Lady and the Tramp with a long piece of licorice. Smoochy.

6th grade- Mrs. S was horrible. She hated my sister so barely gave me any attention. I remember cheating because I wasn’t learning anything. I spent recesses tied to the bars with a sweatshirt. We’d spin and spin and spin. It was a super cool trick. I had a large group of friends and for some reason we began to be mean. There became a pecking order. I was such a follower. Some of my good friend all of the sudden got picked on and I participated. How awful. I was never rude to anyones face but I remember phone pranks and toilet papering. Some girls had so much torturing that they changed schools and were never the same. I always felt horrible.

On the boy front, I remember quite a few boys asking me to go out. I was nervous about some of the more popular boys but generally said yes. They never lasted long. One boy told me I had hairy legs one day and asked me out the next. Nice way to flirt I guess. At the end of 6th grade I had my eye on a less noticed kid -Brad. We spent the spring and summer with our friends hanging out at the rope swing down by “Sev” (short for Seven Eleven.) Nothing much came of it except some great fun. He was a goofy kid. Once he picked up a ran over broken necklace on the street and gave it to me. I totally kept if for years in a secret hole in my wall. Can we say totally romantic!!

*** Jr high is even more mortifying– stay tuned.

In case you missed my first post about my life history, you can read it here.

Okay, so what came next…

I had a little brother. Well, I guess my mom had him. Isn’t he cute?! I remember mom saying that he was the happiest easiest baby she’d had. He has continued to be easy (compared to his high maintenance dramatic sisters (ha ha, that does not include me.) He is in longer my “little” brother seeing that he is near the size of a sky scrapper topping out at 6′5, I hardly recognize him these days. I still expect him to be the sweet little boy who totally rocked at putting up with 3 sisters.

This is the best picture I have of my beloved tiger swimsuit. I guess I lived in it. At a closer look I realized that it is actually a cheetah or something like that printed on it but I called it my “Tiger suit.” One of my favorite summer activities was to go play in the gutter. We had this section in our drive way that always filled with water, either from rain or the sprinklers. It was heaven. It was my little lakeside retreat. I think the neighbors thought I was crazy… going to die from some disease floating around in those dirty waters. But I survived… thumb and all.

Yes, I continued to suck my thumb. I remember getting old enough to get teased. Around first or second grade some tow headed kid made some rude comment that stopped me from sucking at school. I also remember some primary teacher (yes, I remember exactly who) telling me straight out that I was far too old for that. Being quite embarrassed, it did make me stop sucking… at least in public places. It continued to be a comfort to me through most of my childhood at home though. I eventually quit but it was always a quiet secret we kept in our household. I think everyone thought it just normal Mandy behavior and didn’t pay much attention to it. I think it is more common than people realize though. I should start a club — The Thumb Sucker of America Unite — Haw, wouldn’t that be ridiculous! I tend to think that if I have a child that wants to suck I’ll just let them but I did have to get braces (don’t most people?) so I ask myself how long I’d actually allow a child to do it…

Next came my little sister. She grew up to be a real beauty (we should get her to start a blog.) I don’t have such a great memory of my childhood. Most of my memories come from these pictures or stories I’ve hear. I never was a big journal writer (unlike my big sis who claims that every little intimate and humiliating moment of her life is documented in the precious pages of those blue plastic books.) I don’t remember mom bring babies home or ever caring that there was an addition to the family but little sis has defiantly been great addition to the family. Love ya, girl.

This kind of fake smile on my face shows up in a lot of pictures -a little trademark of mine, I guess. This awesome red/orange velvety couch became the stage for my acrobats and Jessica’s theatrics. Little bro and little sis would tag along and we would put on great shows. Can anyone say “KIDS CLUB ATTENTION!”

Here is the crew all together. We maxed out at 4 kiddos. Each of us are quite different in many ways. Most of you know Jessica, she is artistic, dramatic and lots of laughs. Me, I love physical things, love to have fun and never talk about very many serious things. Little Bro is a major computer nerd and loves to swing dance. Little Sis is so caring and nurturing, wants to work with children and is very, very musical. All so different. That must be what makes family life so much fun. I guess the bro and I look most alike and the 2 sisters have the silky brunette hair. A fun little bunch, eh? There is that silly smile again, dimples where there shouldn’t be.

When I turned 5 I got this awesome blue bonnet bike. LOVED IT. Check out the blue wheels and super cooshy seat. Banana bikes were the best. I wish my mountain bike had a seat like that, then I wouldn’t get so saddle sore after a long break from riding. Anyway, I was determined to learn to ride all by myself. No training wheels whatsoever. My mom notes in my baby book that I was athletic and coordinated. I think physical activities have always been a love of mine.

I did tap and ballet for a while. If I remember correctly I really loved it. Mom was a dancer in her youth and so I felt inspired to be great. It didn’t last to long though. I’m not sure why but I think Dad didn’t like some costume we were going to wear or something like that. Looking back at the group photos of dance class, I ended up going to high school with a bunch of the girls in those pictures. Kind of funny because we didn’t know it then.

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I think that is all for now. I need to scan in the next batch of photos. I wonder if I should worry about confessing my deep dark secret of being a thumb sucker for so many years? — Na, I’ve got nothing to hide. Maybe it’ll start a major world wide upheaval and my club will really be started. LOL. Totally! I never write those lame-o, overused, abbreviated letters but I just couldn’t help it. It’s ridiculous. Seriously ridiculous.

Since I have dug out all my old scrapbooks from my mom’s house it has inspired me to do a life history on this blog (why I’m sharing it with the world I do not know -I must have lost all sense of reason.)

It’s going to be written in a few posts. I do not yet know how many it will take. I only have 28 years under my belt and I’m not sure how much I’m going to elaborate until I actually get writing.

Who knows if it will be excited to you or not but I hope that maybe you can find a few new interesting things about me. If my childhood doesn’t grab you, maybe the dating years will. If anything maybe you’ll like the pictures. I do.

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It all began with a house. A house my dad built. For 23 years it was the only house I had know. I always kind of felt like it was my house because Dad finished it just a few months before I was born. In the beginning it was such a beautiful house, modern and stylish. As the years went on we began to realize just how BROWN it really was, but we still loved it, even with all of the wear and tear, because it was ours.

So I was born… I was 7 lbs 11 oz. That was never hard to remember. 7′11. I was delivered by C-section. It was a rude awaking, if I recall properly, I was not quite ready to enter into this world and it didn’t help that the doctor accidentally nicked my head with the knife. Yes, I had to have stitches on my wee little head and he didn’t even apologize. Since Mom was tied down to the surgical bed, Dad was the first to hold me. He’ll never let me forget how I squeaked. Even now as an adult he’ll give me a big hug, pat me on my back and make the squeaking noise that I made.

I was named after my great grandmother, Amanda. I always felt pretty special being named after her and felt just a strong bond with her. I always hoped I was her favorite great grandkid but maybe there is some unwritten rule that Grandmas can’t have favorites. Oh, well. I will always remember and love her wrinkled skin on her hands and her special “squeaky kisses.”

I am a second child. My dear older sister, Jessica, had to adjust to my arrival because she loved center stage so much. But no worries, I could have cared less about any sort of stage. I was happy just being on the side lines. “Go Jessie!” My mom notes in my baby book that I loved to tag around with Jess. Doesn’t everyone need a big sister?

At 3 weeks I went on my first camping trip. Each summer we have these huge family reunions in the Uinta Mountains near Flaming Gorge, UT. I didn’t leave the trailer very much but it was the introduction to the mountains that would change my life. Ha ha. Well really… we did go camping every single year of my life and this is where I learned to have a love for the mountains.

Dad taught us to fish as soon as we could walk. Here I am with my first fish. When I was older, I realized that Dad first hooked them and then handed the rods to us. Kind if cheating but we were pretty little. We’d feel the fish pulling and get so excited. Thrilling really. I love fishing little brookie trout in the high Uintas, especially with Dad. They are best cooked over a camp fire.

At 1.5 months, I discovered my thumb. I popped it in and never took it out. I think this is why I was such a happy baby. I could make myself content. Whenever I see little thumb sucker I just have to say Awww! Some people can’t stand their kids sucking but I loved it. They’ll grow out of it so no worries.

At crawling age I broke my arm. It’s a mystery as to how it happened. Jessica claims that she must have done it my pulling me around on my belly but really we don’t know how it broke. One day my mom just noticed that I was crawling funny. We went to the doctors and yup, it was broken. I guess I was sucking on my broken arm’s thumb. The doctor laughed and said something like “this will cure that” and put the cast on the broken arm. I was not upset, I just popped the other thumb in. You see, for those of you who do not know, thumb sucker usually prefer one thumb or finger only. I was unique. I liked both.

This happens to be one of my favorite photos ever. I’m not sure why but I love the scratches on my face, my blond hair and the happiness on my face. Growing up everyone called me Mandy. When I went to elementary school I turned into Amanda. So depending on how you know me decides what you call me. I always introduce myself as Amanda and I guess I even think of myself as an Amanda but I think it’s real sweet when people call me Mandy for some reason. A lot of people call me Manda. Not on purpose really, they just drop the A. If you are really lazy it just turns into Mand.

Some favorite things of mine were playing in the dirt, watching dad’s rabbits (I would actually climb into the cages with the rabbits and I even got worms, yuck!), being with Jessica, playing with dolls, singing and listening to music and reading books. (I think I sound like a typical kid) I guess I was also constantly wearing a swimming suit. Mom noted that I loved to play, play, play! I also enjoyed jumping rope and roller skating.

Speaking of roller skating, I broke my leg around age 3 while skating in our unfinished basement. I crashed into a stack of dry wall leaning up against the wall. The stack of sheets landed on my breaking my leg. No wonder Emma broke her arm… It runs in her genes.

Here is a picture of me at age 4. I thought it would be fun to compare a picture of Emma and see if we look alike at all.

That’s all the time I have for now. Hope you enjoyed getting to know more about me. Look forward to more installments. Give me some love via comments if you like hearing about my history.