How to Traumatize Your Child, Part 1

D.G Hudson recently guest blogged at my other house, The A-Z ChallengeBlog, about how important it is to let our children choose what they keep and what they give away.  It’s a great post and you need to read it, but you can read mine first and then hers, order doesn’t matter.  Well, except you’re here, so you might as well read mine first ;-)

When Swissie (remember: handy nickname translator tab above) was born, I was three.  The Swede and The Nutritionist (see, now you have to look…) bought me a life-size, real-looking baby doll of my own.  Of course I named her Swissie.  That is, the same name as my sister.  Which isn’t Swissie, just to be clear.

I loved that doll.  I played with her all the time.  I also played with Swissie all the time – I was a great big sister until I hit about 4, then I was meaner than all get out to her until high school.  Not kidding, I was horrible.  Yet, she still speaks to me.  Yesterday, her only day off, she brought me Thai food and took me for a spa pedicure.  But I digress.  Point: she is WONDERFUL.

One day I couldn’t find my doll.  “Mamma, var är min docka?”  (Going for historical accuracy here…Mom, where’s my doll?)  “Jag gav henne till kyrkan att sälja.”  (I gave her to the church garage sale)  I was LIVID.  We’ll stop with the complete accuracy at this point so that I can clock in under 500 words, my new post goal.  (Cheryl, are you proud of me?)

 “How could you? You know she’s my favorite!  We HAVE to get her back!  You didn’t even ask me!”  (I’m about 8 at this time.)  “Well, you’re not playing with her very much, you’re playing Barbies and with the twin dolls Farmor (father’s mother) gave you.  Ever logical.  Not sentimental.  “But Mom!  She’s special!  I’m saving her forever!” So off to the church we go and retrieve my doll.  Phew.  The sale was the next day.

I STILL HAVE HER.  I saved four of my favorite dolls.  I also have the twins, Peter and Nina and the doll Farmor bought for me to have a special doll to play with just at her house, Jessica. 

Jessica is the tallest, the twins are on either side of Swissie.  Yes, a bit worse for the wear (the broken eyes really creeped out YellowBoy - the boy who shoots zombies and is right now hunting vampires...go figure.)

Farmor made all their clothes.  You see that she could both knit and crochet.   I didn’t put “Swissie’s” jacket on, it’s very warm in here.  

Note the details on Jessica’s dress – lace hem, scalloped collar, matching belt.  Can you believe that in 40 years I haven’t lost her original shoes?

I saved these for my kids to play with, and because who could possibly give away hand-made doll clothes?  What sort of unfeeling person does that?  (If it’s you – tell me why – I promise I won’t kill you, I truly want to know what makes you tick).  Of course, it's not like my Lego boys played with them, but we've had plenty of girl visitors who have.  Yeah!  Gives me the warm fuzzies every time.

This story has three valuable, given away items, but it’s looking like a two-part post.  Tune in tomorrow to hear what else happened and whether I was successful in retrieving those treasures.

Did your parents ever traumatize you like this?  I know some of you wrote nice, long stories after D.G’s post, and I read them all, so in your comment you could just mention that and say, “Hi Tina! Hope you’re feeling better!”  I still crave comments.