Longing for Youth

There comes a point in your life when you say, "What the hell happened to my childhood? Wasn't it just yesterday I was climbing trees, playing in the dirt and riding Barbie RV's down Third Street?!" In a blink of an eye, you're an adult. Ok. That's it. I don't want to adult anymore. Adulting is hard work! You have to get up and actually MAKE your bed! Then get in the shower, do your hair, put on your face, brush your teeth and get dressed in uncomfortable work clothes and shoes and go to a job. A JOB! the toughest job I had as a kid was cleaning my room! But then, that was tantamount to Hercules 12 tasks and the cleaning of the Augean Stables, according to my mother. When I was a kid, I rolled out of bed, threw on whatever was not balled up on the floor and wasn't dirty or didn't smell, ran a brush thru my hair, brushed my teeth and ran outside. I had things to do! Grasshoppers to catch, toads to locate, bikes to ridden, baseball to be played, swings to be swung, dirt to be thrown... I was a busy kid. All this adulating is starting to get on my nerves. Now I have little clones of myself and my husband to get up in the morning all while getting myself ready for the day. To son and daughter from my bedroom upon exiting the shower "Hey you two! Time to get up and get ready for school!" Silence. Yell again, "Hey! Up and at 'em!" Deafening silence. Put on robe and stomp down hall, throwing open bedroom doors and flipping on lights, "HEY! Get up! time to get ready for school." Groan, heavy sigh, whine, followed by covers pulled over head. Stomp to bed, pull covers off boy- "Up!" Groan "Gimmee a minute..." Stomp down hall to girl's room, open door, flip on light, "Time to get up." No response. Grab dog, toss him on bed to wake up girl. Lick lick lick... Girl "umph" Ok, that was productive. After 10 minutes I hear the sounds of children moving about their rooms. None too quickly. Yet, on weekends... up at 7 am. What. The. Hell. Not only do you have to get these mini-me's up in the morning, you have to clothe and feed them as well! Now wait a single minute... I don't remember being this needy as a kid! But, rest assured, I was, according to my parents. As a kid, I had a lot more freedom to be, do and say what I wanted. If I did that today I am considered "Not professionally dressed", "inappropriate behavior at work" and "incorrigible". Well gee... that's harsh, isn't it? I never signed on for Adulting. I long for the days of carefree childhood "fly by the seat of your pants" and daredevil antics. I could ride that Barbie RV down Third Street and no one would bat an eye. I do that today I would get arrested...and probably a broken RV trying to hold the weight of this adult. I want to go horseback riding without a saddle and barefoot thru the alfalfa fields with the neighbor kids of my youth. I want to go ice skating. I want to go to the pool with the bunch from my childhood. I want to climb a tree and throw acorns at the cousin and his cronies. If I did any of that now, I would most likely kill myself from over-exertion. But hey! I am willing to die by NOT Adulting, I would die happy!

The Diving Board

*Gulp* Dear God, what was I doing up here? How do I get myself into these messes? Why did I take the boys up on the dare to do this just to save face? Am I really not as brave as I thought? I wonder if I wet myself right now what would be more embarrassing? Standing on the diving board, twelve feet above the water, knees knocking, hand and shoulders shaking in uncontrollable fear. This is the furthest up I had ever been in my eleven years. I stared at the rippling blue water of the twelve foot pool from the high dive watching the sun reflect and dance across the water like fireflies, promising me a refreshing bath of warm pool water, only if I had the guts to jump. The longer I stared at the water, the more the water seemed to taunt me. "You can't do it. You are too much of a chicken to break the even surface of me. You don't have the guts!" Gulping again, I dared to hazard a look down at the bottom of the ladder from the high dive. I felt like I was thirty stories up. At the bottom stood my cousin and his friends, staring smugly up at me. The looks on their faces calling me the coward that I was, just waiting for me to climb sheepishly back down the ladder and run crying into the girls locker room. But then, I happened to look at Tanya. Her eight-year-old face staring intently back at me. The look of anger on her face at the taunting boys, but what I noticed more was the look of confidence in her eyes. "Come on and jump! We don't have all day!" One of the boys yelled, followed by a chorus of other cat calls and snarky comments. "Shut up! She's gonna jump just let her alone for a minute!" Tanya yelled back at them. She turned back to gaze up at me, her green-gold eyes showing her faith in me as if to say "You got this! Show them you can do it!" I smiled tremulously at her and looked back to look at the water below my dripping toes. "Get her down! She is too chicken!" one of the taunters yelled. I saw the life guard stand up and start to climb down his perch to come fetch me. No way! I was not going to let the beefy high schooler come up the ladder and drag me back down. I was already humiliated enough! I would never be able to show my face at the public pool again! With one last glance at Tanya, I turned, sucked all the air I could into my lungs, closed my eyes and jumped. I fell for what felt like an eternity. I was sure that I was falling to my death into the depths of Hell from whence I would never return. The warm summer air rushing around my body as I plummeted toward the water. The blood pounding furiously in my ears. My own heartbeat drowning out all sounds around me. When would I hit? Was this a test? Would I live to see tomorrow or would I shatter into a million pieces upon impact? Just before I hit the water, I heard one sound and one sound only. The sound of my cousin, Tanya, yelling, "ALRIGHT!" I plunged into the bright blue depths, the warmth enveloping me in a watery caress. Air exploded from my over inflated lungs as my feet touched the bottom of the twelve foot pool. Forcing my eyes open, I stared upward and saw the watery sun above the pool. The chlorine burned my eyes and my now empty lungs were starting to crave oxygen. I crouched and pushed off the bottom of the pool with my feet, sending me rocketing to the top. I broke the surface of the water and sucked in fresh air. I could hear Tanya yelling excitedly and taunting the boys that I was NOT a scaredy cat or a chicken or a wuss. She was dancing around and pointing at them and taunting them. I wiped the water from my eyes as I treaded water. I made eye contact with the boys and promptly stuck my tongue out at them and then swam toward the ladder of the pool, pulling myself out and shaking my head. Tanya came running up to me, ignoring the life guard yelling "No running!" she grabbed me and hugged me. "See! I told you you could do it! Those guys are idiots." She kept up a steady stream of confidence building chatter as I went to grab my towel. The boys, who were now bored with the fact that they couldn't make me cry, took off to play a game of Marco Polo in the six foot. ignoring us completely. I turned to Tanya, "Thanks. I was scared as heck to do that." "Yeah," she said enthusiastically, "I know! But you showed them! Bunch of idiots." (this was her favorite word at the time.)she grabbed her towel, "Come on, let's go to the Dairy-O for a large chocolate cone. You deserve it!" The moral of the story~ Chocolate Ice Cream fixes everything!

The Great Record Debate

"Who got potato chip grease all over my Barbara Streisand record?" That is not a question that comes up in every day conversation, but for some reason it was par for the course at my cousin's house. Now, I will admit, Tanya and I had been listening to "The Main Event" ad nauseum for the past half hour, but we had turned off the hi-fi and retired to the playroom for a delightful afternoon of Barbies. We were in the middle of the GI Joe and Bionic Woman wedding when we heard the screech from the living room. My Aunt came bursting into the toy room, "Were you two eating chips while listening to this record?" Both of us shook our heads in the negative. Nope. No chips. "There is chip grease all over this record. If you didn't do it, then who did?" Tanya and I looked at each other in bewilderment, looked at my Aunt and said "I don't know." She gave us a stern look and walked back into the living room. "And where is the record jacket?!?" She yelled. Tanya looked at me and said "It should be in the console where it always is." Nothing. No reply. Ok... must have found and we are good. Back to more important things, the wedding of the decade. The wedding went off without a hitch until we heard big brother come downstairs with his buddies. The came into the toy room eating a bag of chips, disrupting our reception, "Whatcha doin'? Playin' with your dollies?" I just ignored him, Tanya told him to shut up. "HEY!" he yelled, "Is that my GI Joe?" He snatched GI Joe from his chair at the elaborate head table we had made for the new couple, knocking over the Bionic Woman and the play-dough cake we had made. His friends snickered. Tanya yelled at him to knock it off. I took a different approach, "Not unless you play with dollies." Big brother got a little red in the face because I was being a smartass, but it did get the desired effect I was looking for. "It's not a doll, it's an action figure!" Oh. Ok. An action figure the same size of a Barbie Doll. "Fine! You can play with GI Joe." he tossed his back on the floor. It was at that point that we realized GI Joe had potato chip grease all over his black tuxedo he borrowed from Ken. Now we knew who got chip grease all over the Barbara Streisand record! Tanya jumped up and ran out to the kitchen, "Mom! Chad's eating potato chips in his room! He got the chip grease all over your record and he got it all over GI Joe's wedding tuxedo!" Chad stormed off after her, leaving me in the toy room with a greasy GI Joe, a prone Bionic Woman and a smashed play-doh wedding cake, as well as some of Chad's buddies. "So, I said," who wants to celebrate a wedding?"

Driving Lessons

I am 15 1/2. I'VE GOT MY PERMIT!! Yes, I am on my way to becoming a licensed driver! I am going to jump into a sports car and drive around town, my hair whipping in the wind, tunes cranked and looking awesome. Reality check...you don't have a sports car/convertible and your hair is pixie short. No wind whipping for that style. The first time I got behind the wheel of my mom's car was the day I got my permit. I immediately broke out into a cold sweat and started hyperventilating. So much for looking cool behind the wheel of a car. My mother drove a 1984 Renault Encore- who's tagline was The One To Watch! (my dad added the "fall apart" after it started nickel and diming them)It was a tiny black 4 door hatchback with a tan interior and an awesome tape deck. At least I could crank the tunes! No such luck. First thing my mom did was turn off Huey Lewis and the News "Sports" cassette and turn to face me. "No music until you have learned to drive without distractions." What?!? This was not looking as cool as I thought it would. Ok, get into driver's side, adjust seat, buckle up, adjust mirrors (check teeth and hair), put car into drive with my foot on the brake, look to my left, my right, my left again, turn on left blinker and pull carefully into the road. Ah, if it was only that easy. After checking my mirrors, I put the car into drive...and stomped on the gas. I peeled out, gravel flying everywhere on the right side of the car, squealing the tires when I hit the pavement, sped along for about 20 yards and then slammed on the brakes rocking the car back and forth for several seconds. Shaking, I turned to my mom, eyes huge and expecting to get the reaming of a lifetime. All I got was, "Gently." Seriously?! I should have heard at least a bloodcurdling "we're all gonna die" scream while digging her fingernails into the dashboard and bracing her feet on the floorboards. Instead, I got one word, "Gently." I will admit, she was a little white in the face, but she looked utterly calm and serene as she spoke to me. "Gently." I checked my mirrors again, gently took my foot off the brake and gently touched the gas. This time, the car slowly crept forward onto the road. I concentrated on keeping the car straight and gently giving it some gas. The little hatchback puttered along happily. As I approached a turn, I heard my mom again, "Gently." I eased off the gas and carefully applied the brake easing into the turn. Coming out of the turn I touched the gas again. "Gently." I maneuvered the car down the road, past the park, over the bridge, around the curve by the church, across the small bridge and to our lane. Switching on the right turn signal I pulled into the lane toward our house. I drove along the lane and pulled up into our driveway. Putting the car into park and switching off the engine, I turned to my mom. "Well," I said, "that, was an adventure." My mom smiled somewhat shakily at me. "It was, wasn't it?" I smiled at her, feeling rather proud of myself and my first driving lesson. I was going to do just fine as long as I remembered my mother's softly spoken word, "Gently." I gave myself a mental pat on that back. In the next instant, my proud balloon was deflated. "Next time," she said, gently, "you are driving with your father."