Childhood Stacks

This is a sponsored post for BAND-AID®.

When I think back to my childhood, I can remember spending a lot of it in tears. Not because I had a traumatic childhood, no it was great.

It was just because we spent all of our time, when not in school, playing. Playing in the cubby house and on the street. Going to the park and hanging out at the creek at the end of our cul-de-sac.

So, why all the tears?

Because I was a scrappy kid who never said no to a dare, and when you combine that with an inherited klutz-ism gene, quite often the outcome of my dares resulted in an injury of varied proportions.

Injuries that remain as fresh in my mind today as the day it happened include, but are not limited, to the following.

Riding my BMX down the big hill with no hands and losing half my face to the bitumen.

Losing control of a quad-bike at my Pop’s farm and steering it at alarming speed into a huge cactus that grew smack bang in the middle of a paddock.

Being on the receiving end of a rock, thrown at me by the school bully.

Being bucked off a pony into a barbed wire fence.

Getting onto roller-skates for the first time with an inflated sense of self-confidence.

There are more, but those are the ones the stick out in my mind.

Each trauma would be treated with a swab of that red Mercurochrome, which would stain your skin for days, and topped with a Band-Aid. Then as the days passed, that Band-Aid would become filthy and stickier, until Mum would rip it off, taking half the scab with it.

And then we would start all over again.

More red stuff. A fresh Band-Aid.

A really good stack could result in weeks of healing because of this vicious cycle.

Why, I could even point out some of these scars today.  My legs are like a map of my childhood accidents. The tears were always soothed by Mum, who would whack on a band-aid and send me on my merry way.

Fast forward to modern times and I am now the dispenser of Band-Aids.

You know the signs. Kids playing, making noise and running around like mad. An awkward sounding bump followed by 2 seconds of silence.

And then the sirens of doom erupt!

First thing I do is run to the fridge and get an ice pack. Before sighting the victim, I ask any accompanying children if there is much blood. For you see, I don’t like blood and I have to get in a different mind set before going in to apply treatment.

Most of the time, there is not too much blood. THANK GOD AND TOUCH ALL THE WOOD….

Ice pack, calming words and then the magic Band-Aid is applied. Depending on the severity of the accident, 9 times out of ten the game is resumed quickly and I can try to return to my former Zen-like state of mind, albeit slightly traumatized.

I think I am dealing out at least half a dozen Band-Aids a week at the moment. I can unwrap one quicker than a Vegas dealer can shuffle a deck.

Interesting side note? Band-Aids were invented in 1920, by Johnson & Johnson cotton buyer Earl Dickson, who stuck some of his cotton onto adhesive strips to help his wife Josephine out. She was a klutz like me, except in the kitchen.

What was the biggest stack you had as a kid?

Are you the Chief Band-Aid Dispenser at your place?

This post was proudly bought to you by new BAND-AID^® QUILT-AID^TM Technology, a non-stick pad that draws fluid away from the wound.  BAND-AID® strips help cuts heal twice as fast as uncovered cuts, which means healing the hurt faster.

Do you like lollies?

Sponsored by Allen’s Cheekies

Growing up I remember going on car trips with the family. Along with the usual fights, sing alongs and breaks, I recall Mum would always have a massive bag of Jelly Snakes, which she would distribute in times of good behavior.

That is a nice way of saying a bribe.

I could make a jelly snake last a good ten minutes.

This was back in the day that you could take 20 cents to the milk bar and stand there for ages instructing the shopkeeper exactly what you would like. A lolly cost 1 cent.

“Can I have 1 red frog… 2 milk buds…2 strawberry & creams…1 cobbler”

Then you would walk home with a little white bag full of goodness. It was a simple and delicious ritual.

And then our neighborhood was rocked with the news. The price of single lollies was going up to 2 cents apiece. This immediately halved our purchasing pleasure, and then it all went downhill from there.

Soon it was 2 lollies for 5 cents.

I used to always beg my Mum for stories from the “olden days”. She would tell me that you used to be able to get 3 licorice bullets for a penny. I remember shaking my head thinking “Damn Mum, you had it so good back then.”

But they didn’t have Chicos.

At the age of (almost) 40, I still love lollies.

But I have had to become smarter about how I treat myself because of little hands….

I am generous with my love, my time and my dedication to my boys, but I am not generous when it comes to sharing lollies.

It is not about guilty eating. I don’t believe there is such a thing.

It is about keeping something, just for me.

You know the scene. You are driving along. You turn up the radio before sneaking your hand into your bag, quietly, ever so carefully rummaging around for a sweet that you know you saw there a while back. This usually happens at school pick up time, and a little sugar hit is required.

Once the target is located, you unwrap it with one hand. You must be very careful here as it only takes a break in the music and a clumsy move before your cover is blown and two little hands spring like and unfurled coil from the backseat.

Palms opened.

The rustle of a packet is akin to a ringing bell to Pavlov’s Dog.

Now, if you are careful, you have the lolly in your hand and then, fake a quick cough, transporting the prize from your hand to your mouth. A rookie error would be then to munch happily away.

“What are you eating Mum?”

“Nothing…”

No. You must consume your treat slowly, as to not alert the natives that you are indeed having a sneaky lolly. When you get home, cut up some fruit for them. And no one is the wiser.

Allen’s have cottoned onto the fact that us ladies enjoy a cheeky treat now and then, and have released a new lolly, just for us!

Portion controlled (so you don’t end up scoffing the whole bag) and delicious; whack these into your handbag so you can always have access to a cheeky lolly.

And the taste? Think of a sizable, squishy, fruity traditional jelly lolly and then POW! You are rewarded with a delicious soft centre in either a citrus of berry flavour.

But be warned. The packet makes a recognizable auditory alert.

Are you a lolly lover?

What are your favourites?

Tell me your favourite memory from your childhood about lollies and go into the draw to win a $500 Voucher from lastminute.com.au , so you can treat yourself to a cheeky escape. 

Keep it short (and sweet). Click here for terms and conditions. 

Oh, and come back on July 1, to see if you won!