A Wee Little Storm OR You're Welcome, World

I don't think there are any pictures of me from the age of Born to the age of Five where I am not trying to put things in my mouth. Seriously. My mom has a bunch of pictures of me where I'm either stuffing my face, about to stuff my face, hovering over my food like an animal, or trying to put toys in my mouth. In a very few, I appear to be offering food, but I know that can only be a cruel trick I'm about to play on someone because Storm does not offer her food to anyone.

Around the time mom was finding all these awesome pictures of me my parents remembered a fun game they used to love to play when they were drunk-slash-high-slash-both where they would put my pacifier in upside down and I would flip it right side up in my mouth without using my hands. Apparently they thought it was the neatest thing ever and they would entertain themselves and their friends for long periods of time. They would show me off like a dog who's just discovered a laser pointer and chases it relentlessly in circles. "No seriously, check this out. She does it every time!"


This is the environment I grew up in folks. Praise and attention for doing things with my mouth. It's lucky I turned out as awesome and psychologically stable as I did. (Side note: My parents are amazing, and this is me joking.)

So here's a little sampling of adorable tiny Storm, and her oral fixation (I so wish I had a copy of the one where I'm walking out of a public restroom in Alabama, toddling after mom, in my cut-off jean shorts and messy hair, a toy in each hand cause I fucking can, and no shoes. It's priceless.):

 This one is called "Linoleum and Bread Crumbs"

P.S. check that stance.

This is the trick I mentioned. Look how pleased my face is. Someone is clearly going to fall for this. 

The action figure Sleeping Storm now comes with pacifier accessory and safety harness. 

This is my very personal favorite. I call it: Sleepy Old Man Storm... with pacifier.

There's a picture of my mom's parents on their 25th wedding anniversary, where they both look like they're trying to reach California from Oklahoma (that's a Grapes of Wrath joke for you well-read types, and consequently a Depression Era/Dust Bowl joke). They look absolutely miserable, and nobody knows why. Anyway, I look exactly like my grandfather in the last picture here, except a little sleepy. And I have a pacifier. Not even kidding.