Childhood Memories (February Blogging Challenge)

So it's Monday again, the day that no one really looks forward to.

What should one talk about today? How about a short insight into my childhood?

So here goes.

Birth

My mum gave birth to a gem on a Monday morning on February 6^th 1995. 

My father and mother decided to call me Salma Razia Khatun. 

Khatun is my family name, Razia was chosen by my eldest sister so it could rhyme with her name 'Nazia'. I was told my father chose Salma for me as it ends in 'ma' which mean mother. So even if he had no mother, he would always have me. Salma overall means 'Safe' in Arabic.

It was the holy month of Ramadan when I was born. After I was brought home one of the first things my brother did was feed me sweet honey mango. I was three days old and already eating solid food. When my mum saw this she panicked and got out what was left in my mouth. (I was a big eater since day one)

My mother wanted a son initially as she only had one son, but God blessed her with another daughter. At the time while I was still in the hospital, my siblings were still at home. When they got they news that they had had another sister, they thought it was a joke until they came to visit me. 

I don't do jokes!

This didn't stop my siblings from buying me boys clothes and toys which I loved and could not stand feminine things.

Childhood

My best friend at nursery was a boy. I remember we would go around the playground and hit the girls... and remember those red and yellow plastic cars which two kids can sit in and you use your feet to move around... we used to pull girls out of those and ride around like bad asses.

As a kid I used to make up names for people I did not know. So that boy who was my best friend, till this day I have no idea what his name is. I used to call him 'Nahoolmi' and weirdly he used to reply. An Indian girl, her name was something like 'Vashinavi' but I used to call her 'Vitamin'.

For my fifth birthday my neighbour asked me what I would like to which I responded clothes. On the day, as I unwrapped her gift and came across a leopard print collared top and bottoms, my face dropped and in front of everyone I threw the gift on the sofa and ran out crying. Now don't get me wrong, I was not spoilt and didn't always get the best things (even till this day, gifts I get are probably bought from High Street shops and I appreciate them) but how can you give a tom boy something so grown up and girly.

As boy stressed as I was as a kid, I used to cry a lot. Every time my father used to go away for a month to tend to his parents in Bangladesh, I would cry my eyes out. I would hold on to his legs crying as he walked out of the house.

I used make my dad promise me that he would collect me from school and the days he wouldn't come, I would cry and think he didn't love me. 

I loved the comfort (and I still do) of sleeping with my mum and staying at home with her while everyone else was at school.

When I was about six years old, my father took us all to Buckingham Palace. My sister told me that the Queen waved at me through a window. I believed her. (I only found out the other day that my whole life had been a lie)

There's so much more memories that I could write down, but as always when it comes down to it, my mind goes blank.

Hope you enjoyed it so far.

Next blog will be out this Wednesday hopefully.

If you haven't already, read my previous blog
http://salaamsalma.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/birthday-girl.html

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