Every Sunday morning I woke up, crawled out of my crib and walked across the hall. My feet made a loud sound on the floor, even though it was carpet. With clumsy feet, my stuffed animal under my arm (a green rhino called Hugo), and a cloth in my mouth I tried to make my way through the dark, which wasn’t that easy. I used those washable diapers as a cloth to suck on. Without it, I wouldn’t sleep at all and I used those way longer than I should have.
I was an early riser, very early. Especially for a Sunday. After sneaking into my parent’s bedroom I tried to wake up my father “nicely”. I prodded him with my finger until he woke up. He was grunting, now I know he was just a little bit annoyed by me waking him up at 7 am on a Sunday morning, back then I thought this was just what people would do during their sleep.
Without a word, he picked me up and walked with me downstairs. In the kitchen, he put me on the counter, letting me watch him making a hot chocolate. With the cup in my hand, I sat in my father’s arms, him carrying me upstairs. Every time I was kind of excited because now the best part of my Sunday morning routine was starting.
Back in the bedroom, he sat me in the middle of the bed, between him and my mother, who has the deepest sleep ever and was still snoring. My father turned on the TV while crawling back into bed. Turning on the kid’s channel, with cartoons and funny shows. Drinking hot chocolate in bed while watching cartoons, and sitting between my parents is one of the happiest memories of my childhood. It is so mundane, normal, and totally unglamorous. But those memories are the best ones, those that make you smile every time you think of them.
At first, I would sit there quietly, drinking my cup of hot chocolate and watching TV. But when my cup was empty, I would start talking to the people on TV. Well, maybe not talking TO them, but talking exactly like them. I tried to dub them and tried to beat them. I wanted to talk faster than the people on TV. Which is kind of not possible, because you don’t know what line comes next if you never saw the show before. But as a little kid of three years you just don’t care. So I didn’t really care about the fact, that my talking might be annoying to the people sleeping next to me. They certainly did mind, but they started loving me for this even more I think.
After learning how to talk I did not stop. I ran around talking all day, driving my parents insane and make them laugh constantly at the same time. But just talking wasn’t enough for me. Like I said, I wanted to beat the people on TV and spoke fast. Very fast. My mother always used to say: “You talk like a waterfall and never stop.”
But my full name is kind of hard to pronounce if you want to speak fast. So my mother came up with a new name. I have no idea how she came up with it, neither does my dad. This is one of the things I kind of regret asking her. And now you can guess where this is headed.
She named me Lieselotte Meyer Schulze. Luckily the two last names, which are basic standard German family names, kind of got lost during the time. But since I was a little kid, my Mama called me Lieselotte. My father never did and is actually kind of not allowed to do so. There are text messages on my phone starting with “Hi Lieselotte”. Birthday cards, Christmas cards and even on the phone she called my like that.
I would love to know how she came up with it, what the inspiration for this unique name was. But it was just so normal that she called me like that, so I never asked why. Two years ago my mother died of cancer. She was sick her whole life, but always had a smile on her face. Being strong, independent, and being able to recover quickly from a setback is who she was. Exactly like me. Like mother, like daughter, huh?
When I first started this blog, I really wasn’t keen on having my full name displayed as my blog name. And I really did not want to name it BloggirlX164 or anything like that. Since this blog is about writing and my passions for books, movies, and decor, I wanted the name to be memorable, personal, and kind of funny.
Naming this blog like my mother called me just seemed perfect. It is a story close to my heart, that makes me feel comfortable and gives me a homey feeling like nothing else does. Naming it The Lieselotte fits perfectly because it is memorable, personal, and kind of funny.