Advice for Kids: Vol. 1; How to kill yourself, or die trying

If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that I'm invincible. As a child, I had a propensity for dying, or nearly doing so. As an infant, just a few weeks after being born my parents had to fly to New York for a wedding and shortly thereafter I guess I decided to have some fun with my grandparents by turning blue and having to be rushed to the hospital.

Another story that my parents love to tell is when I wouldn't eat solid food despite being the proper age. Actually, I would eat it and then vomit it back up, because otherwise it wouldn't be disgusting enough. Another trip to the hospital, where they were rapidly learning my name, and I was diagnosed with pyloric stenosis, in which the muscle that lets food into the stomach doesn't open. A little surgery (and a fun episode where, at less than a year old, I pulled the oxygen tubes out of my nose), and I was ok. Though I have a neat scar running along the ride side of my abdomen, which I like to say is from a knife fight where I rescued a virgin and three kittens.

Killing me isn't just a fun activity for a hateful God- I certainly tried to do it myself enough times. Jumping into a pool despite not knowing how to swim, falling on my head from the playground, flipping my bike backwards until it landed on top of me- all fun activities that may well have resulted in a tragic death. I lived at the bottom of a cul-de-sac on a hill and I enjoyed riding my bike down the sidewalk and then jumping off into the grass at about 15 mph. I played with lawn darts, right up until I threw one and it broke a 3/4" piece of wood. I had turned a boogie board the wrong way around in heavy surf and was dragged to the bottom and barely surfaced in time- I remember laying face-down on the beach with water lapping at my heels, panting afterwards. At 5, I thought it would funny to throw my parents car into neutral- we merely rolled backwards out of the driveway and into the curb across the street. At my sister's girl scout meeting, I jumped off the stage and landed perfectly, except I bit my tongue and needed stitches. However, I recall chocolate ice cream, so it was OK.

Others, too, enjoy killing me. For some reason, my sister's friend tossed a rock from 20 feet away that I caught right in the center of my forehead. I'm glad that my dad was around to make the joke that it had "knocked some sense into me". This from the same man who has tried to kill me on every watercraft imaginable, from jet skis to sailboats. I think next time he'll try to do something with a catamaran, if possible.

Also, I fell out of a window.

Ok, I guess that bears explaining. We were sitting in the living room (decorated in fashion-forward early 80's tones of dark brown with orange accents, I think). The couch was directly underneath a window, and as usual, I was sitting comfortably on the windowsill, the cool breeze comforting us as we watched whatever was on TV. I leaned back to support my small 5-year-old frame against the screen, but there was no screen and I fell backwards out of the window.

Fortunately, the window was on the first floor, so I only fell 4 feet, perhaps. Unfortunately, there was a bush there, so I fell onto it and through it. My mother later recalled looking up and discovering I wasn't there. I survived, albeit with some cuts and bruises.

So we go back to my original statement, in which I say I'm invincible- obviously, if I have gone through all of this and managed to live, what else could get me?