The Right Now: Purple, Pretend, and Pig Sweaters

The other day I put a picture on Facebook and it got 82 likes.

EIGHTY-TWO.

I didn't have a baby, I didn't get engaged, I didn't graduate, and I've never had so much feedback from one picture.

What was the picture of?

Me in a pig sweater when I was a kid.

A pig sweater that I picked out myself and loved well.

I also had a matching duck sweater.

The eighty-two thumbs-up of affirmation inspired me to write this post...about the younger, homeschooled Laura who wore awesome sweaters and ponytails.

I wasn't homeschooled my whole life. I went to public school through second grade, homeschooled through seventh grade, and transferred into a teeny-tiny Christian school in eighth grade to finish out my education.

Those 5 homeschooled years, though...

THEY WERE AWESOME.

I played pretend, like, every day.

My mom read historical fiction to me for an hour in the morning while I made crafts and rearranged my dollhouse. And if I worked hard, I could finish the rest of my work by noon and have the whole afternoon to myself.

You know, to read books and make things out of pipe cleaners and toothpicks.
Life was good.

Every morning I walked my dog and made up stories about the pretend world in my neighborhood.

In my pretend world, I had a herd of flying cats, fairies, snow leopards, and an eagle named Bon-Bon. My pretend boyfriends' names were Cameron and Colin, and my brother was always the bad guy who rode out of the sky on black clouds.

We didn't have cable, so I watched shows on PBS and taught myself how to speak Ubbi-Dubbi, the language of Zoom.

My best friend lived in my neighborhood and some afternoons I would go to her house, play under her porch, and listen to sinful music by Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys.

My other best friend lived in the woods, where we played hero-and-damsel and listened to sinful music by N'sync.

One summer, my brother and I rode bikes around the cul-de-sac in our pajamas and caught baby grasshoppers in the neighboring field.

We also found pop-weeds around the side of the road and shot them at each other.
The world was a big place.

In my top-secret diaries I wrote about crafts, sleepovers, and the occasional boy.

"Dear Diary, It's almost 9:00! My bedtime. I taught Morgan crochet and she finished a bag! She encouraged me to finish what I start to make. And I'll do that, now. Well, gotta go! Mine truly, Laura Rose Love."

"Dear Diary, Pokemon comes on in about 10 minutes. Morgans party was great even though we stayed less than 2 hours. She did like my present....I've gotta go now. Mine Truly, Laura Rose Love."

"Dear Diary, I'm going to a pumpkin patch with Morgan in not to long. It will be fun. I'm about to wake up Panda. Pokemon comes on in about 5 minutes so goodbye! Mine Truly, Laura Rose Love."

(Yeah, I had a panda named Panda and I put him down for naps)

(And Pokemon was my JAM)

Sometimes the entries even had titles.

My Love

I love Andros (the red Power Ranger). He's nice. He's handsome. I wish I could marry him. I pretend I marry him. He's friendly. I wish I was with him.

The Love of Mine

I absolutely adore Ash Ketchum. He has pointy black hair, big eyes, a black shirt, a blue jacket, jeans, and tennis shoes. He also has a Pikachu.

Because I was homeschooled, I had lots of time to write stories, including one called Friedchickenunzel. It's about Friedchickenunzel Sunny Delight, who was locked in a tower by the evil wizard Harry Potter, grew really long hair, and was saved by George W. Bush.

DON'T ASK.

Every week we met up with other homeschoolers at a Co-op to learn special skills, like how to make pillows and bead necklaces and identify cool rocks.

Sometimes our family went on field trips to places like the aquarium and Walmart.

It was the best time.

Of course, after such an extended, idyllic childhood, the transition back to school in eighth grade was rough, even though I needed it.

I (obviously) didn't know how to dress myself, had spent years not saying "butt" or "gosh", had just stopped playing with dolls, and liked to read on the bus. I had a crush on a real-live boy who was in my class that was KILLING me and tucked my uniform in at least three inches higher than the other girls did. And my hair was up in a ponytail. Every. Day.

I was disconnected from my homeschooled friends and didn't fit in with the crowd of kids who'd grown up watching Nickelodeon and wearing flare jeans. I didn't feel like I had friends again until the end of ninth grade, and I knew they were really my friends when one of them looked at my snowman turtleneck and lovingly said, "Laura, we have got to go shopping."

Then I figured out how to make people laugh, and things got better.

Don't worry. I have friends now. I think.

I'm not saying that homeschooling or not homeschooling children is the answer to education, because my siblings and I all received a mixture of both and we turned out pretty great.
All I'm saying is that I will never take my childhood for granted, and that everyone should wear a pig sweater at least once.

Here are some more fun photos for you to enjoy: