When I was little girl (and I was so flippin cute!) my parents had various names for me depending on what was going on and how I was behaving. I think that’s true of most isn’t it? To this day, those names stick with me… sometimes I hear other parents using the same names with their kids. There are some that seem to be quite traditional.
Even now, as I am pushing the top of the hill.. that one that I’m going to head down the other side of soon, if I hear one of those names being called out by another mom, I stop dead in my tracks. I turn and for a brief moment, I replay the last few minutes in my mind to figure out what I did.
As I’ve grown older and made more deposits into my experience bank, as my body has started to fail me, I think it’s time to re-examine a couple of those names. There are some variations that are much more appropriate to my current state of being…
Miss Priss…. this needs to be changed to MISS PISS
Prissy pants can be modified to Pissy Pants…. at least it’s not Poopy Pants yet.
And then the big one… the one that meant I was in big trouble… Missy. Whenever I heard that one I knew I was in for some trouble. I’d done something big and bad… well at least in my little girl mind. Whatever the case, whenever I heard Missy thrown my way, it was quite serious. And these days it is the one word that will completely stop me no matter what I’m doing or where I’m at. My heart skips a little beat and a fine layer of beaded sweat begins to develop.
Now it is Pissy. I guess I don’t have to worry about that anxious feeling of dread as often… I can’t think of many parents that holler out “Pissy!” when their kids are being heathens.
Sherri Berry was always a good one… and it’s used in good times. Duh. But these days I think it would be better if it was Scary Sherri. Or even Hairy Sherri.
Speaking of hair…. I knew how to rock a mullet in 1972