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."

Circus Clowns are Evil

I am terrified of clowns. I will admit it. Clowns are the epitome of evil. It all started when I was 4 years old and my big sister's friend asked her if she could go to the circus with her and to be nice they even offered to take me. I was psyched! I had never been to a circus before and I was excited to see the elephants and the tigers and the tightrope walkers and whatever else a circus had. It was going to be exactly like what was in my Richard Scary books that I liked to read. All week I kept asking my mom what I was going to see and she would say "A whole bunch of fun things!" Well...that was non-specific. Finally the day came when we could go to the circus. I was excited more than Big Sister and when her friend and her parents came to pick us up it was everything I could do to not ask umpteen thousand questions about the circus. It was a short ride into town and it seemed to take an hour to get there we were so excited. Finally, we pulled into the fairgrounds and saw the red and white striped Big Top tent and the multicoloured flags flapping in the breeze. The big "Barnum & Bailey Circus- The Greatest Show On Earth" banner boasted a white-faced, red smiling, pom-pom hat wearing clown making the circus seem like the greatest thing in the world. As we made our way into the circus tent the smells of popcorn, roasting peanuts and sawdust filled my nostrils. Everything was so BIG! The ceiling of the big top seemed to be 100 feet tall and the tightrope stretched between the giant posts looked like a thread between needles. We found our seats on the bleachers, right down in the front where we could see the action up close and be able to get to the bathroom quickly with less hassle if needs be. Friend's parents bought us some cotton candy and popcorn from the vendors weaving thru the crowds yelling "POPCORN! HOT BUTTERY FRESH!" and "SWEET FLUFFY COTTON CANDY!" The noises all blended into each other making a lovely cacophony of sounds to my 4-year-old ears. It was wonderful. With a blare and a crash, the brass band started playing a circus tune and the lights dimmed. A spotlight glared into the center of the ring on the red jacketed, black pant wearing Ringmaster and he spoke in a loud booming voice into the microphone, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Children of AAAAAALLLLLL ages! Welcome to the Barnum and Bailey Circus!!" The crowd cheered and everyone clapped, my eyes were riveted on the Ringmaster as he announced the different acts that we would be seeing. Then with another blare and crash he shouted "Let the FUN begin!!" The spotlight went out and the tent went dark. Suddenly, bright multi-coloured spotlights started circling around the center ring and out came the clowns! They were all dressed in such bright and colourful costumes and honking horns and laughing raucously, tumbling and jumping over each other that it was difficult to watch them all at once. Their crazy actions and bursts of laughter scared me a little and I crawled up into Friends daddy's lap. He looked down at me and said, "Are they scaring you, Jenny?" I nodded in the affirmative as fear had closed my throat and my eyes were as wide as saucers. Suddenly, one of them catapulted over the ring barrier and headed right in our direction. His wide red grin, huge eyes painted with bright blue eyeshadow and dark eyebrows were staring at me like he was going to do serious harm to my 4-year-old self. He no longer appeared funny, he was now the devil in disguise and hell-bent on taking me away with him. Scared out of my mind, I leaned further into Friends daddy hid my face in his coat and held on to him for dear life. Evil clown was not taking me without a fight. The closer he got the more I shook, I would peek at him quickly and see him still advancing on me and turn my head back into Friends Daddy's chest,eventually pulling his coat over my face and body. Finally, Friends Daddy had enough, in a firm but nice voice, he looked Evil Clown straight in the eye and said, "You are scaring her." I dared a quick look from behind his coat and Evil Clown tried to make me smile, shaking uncontrollably, I once again hid inside the coat praying that he would just go away. Finally, Friends Daddy became a little angry with the Evil Clown, "Please," he said in an angry tone, "that is enough. She is very scared. Go. Away." Evil Clown looked at him, shrugged and moved off to terrorize another small child. The rest of the circus was anti-climactic for me. The elephants came and went, the lady hung by her hair from a rope and did all sorts of amazing stunts, the tightrope walkers balanced precariously from their thin wire above our heads, the beautiful white horses pranced and danced through the ring with lovely riders and daredevils on their backs, and the trapeze artists were breathtaking and heartstopping in their performances. Yet, everywhere you turned, their were clowns. Red smiling clowns, sad faced clowns, sleepy clowns, evil clowns with seltzer bottles lurking in the shadows waiting to grab you and run. And then, years later, Stephen King introduced us to "It" and Pennywise the Dancing Clown. The most evil clown in all history who haunted your nightmares. Yeah, Mr. King....thanks for that...

BUSTED!

Just for the record, never try to a pull a fast one on your mother because she will ALWAYS find out! Once upon a time, I tried to get away with something that was completely harmless and relatively normal by most high school age standards. I tried to cut school. Yes, it's true. This girl could show a little rebellious streak upon occasion. Unfortunately, my rebellions always ended up an epic fail. I really should have learned from those... On this particularly warm spring day, a couple of girlfriends (who shall remain nameless)and myself decided to ditch out of study hall. At the time, we had two study halls- back to back- and had permanent passes to the band room. So, no one would miss us, right? I said Right?!? Wrong. Going out the back door of the band room, up the block, over a block and then down the block to head toward downtown, trying to avoid being seen from the high school windows and the students trapped therein. We were clipping along at a pretty good pace and chatting as we were walking along not paying attention to much of anything until we hit the Dime store (Schultz Bros.) downtown. We were checking out the albums and cassette tapes among other things when all of a sudden I hear "Ahem!" I looked up and felt myself turn pale as a ghost. There stood my mother with a look that would have frozen water. If looks could kill, I would have been lying on the floor. I swear to God she nailed us to the floor with that look. We stared at her in absolute horror- good feelings gone. Oh great. That's it. I'm toast. I am going to get the electric chair for certain. thirty seconds may have only passed but it felt like forever. She pointed a finger at us and then to the car outside the store. With each of us hanging our heads, we all but ran to the car and scrambled in. Mom stomped out the store, climbed in, started the car and drove us back to school. That was the longest 3 minutes of my life. She never said a word the entire time but, Boy Howdy! Did her silence speak volumes! You could feel the anger wash over you in waves and the tension was so think you could have cut it with a chainsaw. No knife could cut thru that type of tension, baby! When we got to school she drove around and dropped us off at the band room back door (which surprised us and made us very relieved to not be marched into the front office to serve a detention for skipping class). I could barely look at her as I opened the car door. My friends mumbled "sorry and thank you" and jumped out of the car as quickly as they could. I put one foot out the door and she grabbed my left wrist- not in a tight grip, but enough to let me know that I was in some very deep doodoo. I turned to look at her and she gave me a radiant smile and said "Have a good afternoon!" Now, don't be fooled by that smile. It wasn't the "hey, nice try, that was funny that you failed!" it was the "you better enjoy your afternoon, because this may be your last one on earth!" How did she know we were there? Simple. People saw us walking past their houses, one just happened to be my aunt's house, she called my mother at work and asked if we "didn't have school today because Jenny just walked past my house with a couple of other girls." It was 115 in the afternoon. Note to self...next time you decide to do something stupid like skip school, make sure you don't walk past a relative's house.

Heirloom

The greatest gift I could have ever received from my parents is my sense of humor. It has gotten me thru bad times and good times. It has gotten me thru difficult situations that had no possible pleasant outcome, it has gotten me thru arguments with family and friends, it has gotten me thru sad times, thru church services, thru graduations, thru weddings and funerals (some could argue that this is the same thing) and it has gotten me thru long and tedious car rides (so did sleeping). REcently I paused to reflect on my- some would say bizarre and twisted- sense of humor and realized that because of my parents, as well as my grandparents, I have learned to deal with a lot of day to day occurences with my wit. For example, when that guy flies by you on the interstate just to pull in front of you because he needed to be first off the off ramp, I generally quip "Well, that was productive. I was worried I wouldn't have some jackass to follow to work." Or, if they go flying by you at Mach 12, I say "What's the matter, cowboy? Are you late for your accident?" Now, some may call this sarcasm, and they would be correct. I am fluent in sarcasm. I practice it every day so I don't appear rusty when the proper situation calls for it. Which, is pretty much every waking hour of my life. Although, I have been known to be rather sarcastic in my dreams as well. Some people understand sarcasm, some do not. It is the ones that do not understand sarcasm that I have the most fun with. But then, I am a bit sadistic in that aspect. I have learned thru careful teaching and example that life is too short to be so serious all the time. Oh, don't worry, I know when it is time to be an adult and address certain situations in a serious manner. That I have learned as well. But it is when the situation that has been blown completely apart or you are dealing with a particularly difficult co-worker or telemarketer that the best sense of humor comes out. Me: Hello? Telemarketer: Yes is Mrs. Jan-dit there? Me: No, Mrs Jan-dit is my mother-in-law, you can call her at (555) 555-5555...click. If you cannot pronounce my name then obviously, you are not looking for me. Or when dealing with those annoying political phone calls...Me; Hello? TM: Who are you voting for in this year's election? Me: (in my best British accent) Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I'm not from your country so I am not allowed to vote. Cheerio!...click. I have a tendency to look at the humor in nearly almost every situation. To go around being serious all the time has got to be such a chore! I wake my children up each morning with a song. Generally a song I have made up and is particularly annoying to my school age children who find that 630 am is far too early to wake up on weekdays (but totally acceptable on weekends). I make up words on the spot and frankly, I think they are pretty brilliant. Even more-so when I get stuck on a word and one of my children sings a rhyming word that fits perfectly. Humor is hereditary. It is something you think of every day, goofy songs or jokes you remember doing as a kid and running gags within a family unit. So, I would like to say a great big THANK YOU to my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles and cousins and my sisters and my dear friends for enriching me with their sense of humor every day of my life and for listening to my stupid jokes, silly songs and witty comments. It is the best heirloom there is.