Seriously? Who Would Smoke Dandelions?

When I was little (and presently, but I don’t want to admit it) I would (and do) misunderstand simple phrases. These misunderstandings changed the way I viewed the world. You see, when I was younger I struggled with reading comprehension and deciphering context clues. I remember failing almost every single reading test the first half of the school year. My teacher had a meeting with my mom and mentioned that I needed to start reading the books. My mom then informed my teacher that I did, in fact, read the books. Not only did I read the books but I read them aloud to her! The adults came to the conclusion that although my audible reading was impeccable, I never understood a word I read. But, with a lot of work and a humiliating drop down to the lower reading group I, somewhat, overcame that little obstacle. However, I am often reminded of my past struggles when I come across something I read or heard in the past that didn't make sense at the time. My inability to use context clues has actually created some interesting imaginings.

1.       When I was in 1^st grade my dad would give us scripture to memorize while at the dinner table. At one point we were making our way through Psalm 23 and each night we would be presented with a new grouping of verses to memorize. One such evening involved verse 6 “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life…” This is what my 2^nd grade mind envisioned:

 I had no idea who Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy were, but they were not going to catch me! 

2.       In the 2^nd grade I was really into playing cowboys & Indians, navy seals, and army with my brothers. When I was an Indian (I was not politically correct in 2^nd grade so give me a break, but if it makes you feel better I do know that the original inhabitants of the area now known as the Americas were not actually Indian) I would break large sticks in half across the top of my knee and then sharpen them on the concrete into arrow points. It was around this time that I started to pay attention to the hymns sung at church. I would read along and sing as best as I could. There is a hymn called “Let Us Break Bread Together”, maybe you know it. The first verse goes as follows: “Let us break bread together on our knees (on our knees)”: 

 I wasn't sure why you wouldn't just cut the bread with a knife, but I also knew how great knees were for breaking things, especially sticks. 

3.       There was a “gang” in my neighborhood when I was in the 4^th grade. It was a group of 8^th and 9^th grade boys that were always causing trouble. They would hide in bushes on Halloween and when you were passing on the path they would jump out, scare you, and then steal your pillowcase full of Halloween candy. They would fill their super soaker 500s with ice cold water and shoot people during the winter months. They were true menaces. One day my friend and I were riding our bikes on the back paths of our neighborhood, when I noticed a rock emerge from the grouping of pine trees. It arced into the air and landed in the middle of the path. I managed to swerve but my friend hit it and was launched from her bike. While I ran to her side and analyzed her wounds I heard laughter coming from the pines. I walked over and started yelling at them about the rock. One of them addressed my yelling with “don’t mess with us, we are the wolf gang.” I laughed because this is what I imagined a wolf gang to look like:

 I’m not sure why I imagined it this way, maybe it was because I was learning about Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart during music class. The thought of the “Wolf Gang” always sent me into a fit a giggles. I just couldn't get over their hair.

          It was then that I noticed the gang was smoking. These guys were so stupid! First they want to look like Mozart and now they are smoking? Everyone who completed D.A.R.E. knows that smoking kills! So I boldly said, “Cigarettes are bad for you! Duh! You guys are dumb.” Their response threw me for a loop:

“We aren't smoking cigs you idiot. It’s weed!”

Weeds?

Seriously? Why would you smoke dandelions? 

It wasn't until a year ago when my brother brought up the Wolf Gang that I righted this situation in my head.

In an odd way, my inability to decipher context clues is actually a blessing. I get some good laughs later in life. 

Babies are Scary, Giant Toothed, Creatures Covered in Scales

Today my head space is occupied by babies. Okay, okay, my head space is often occupied by babies. But today the babies are ruthless. Today when I wandered into the nursery part of my brain it startled me. Imagine stumbling upon a cave full of sleeping, giant toothed, scary creatures with scales. You would most likely stop short, say “oooooooohhh crap” in your head, then slowly and quietly back away.

 If you’re in luck those scary creatures of doom will never wake up and will never even know you were there. No pain, no problem.  That’s how I feel about babies.

I know what you’re thinking, “What’s wrong with you? Babies don’t sleep in caves and they don’t have giant teeth!” Okay wise guy, that is true, BUT babies are terrifying!  So when my inner self stumbles into the nursery of my head, I have the same reaction as the cave. I stop short, say “oh crap”, and back away slowly.

It’s not the thought of having a baby that scares me. It’s more the thought of not having a baby that terrifies me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a baby whisperer. I don’t instantly bond with babies and quiet the weary souls of infants. Actually, I’m quite the opposite. When a baby is placed in my arms I instantly think about all the things that could go wrong:

Am I holding on tight enough? Is this baby going to fall right through my arms and splat on the floor?  I tighten my grip. Crap, is my grip too tight? Am I going to squish the guts right out of this thing’s mouth? It can smell my fear, I know it, and it’s going to sound the alarm! What if I accidentally hit the self destruct button located in the soft squishy section of the head?!  

 While my mind is busy rushing through unlikely scenarios, my face and mouth are doing work worthy of a local low budget commercial. “Aren’t you just adorable?” Actually, you look like an alien trying to pass as an old man. “You look just like your daddy, don’t you?” Only if your dad looks like an alien trying to pass as an old man. Yes, it’s true, every time I hold a baby I honestly can’t wait to give it back. But I’m convinced that it will be different with my own. Plus, babies don’t have those self destruct buttons forever. And they grow out of the alien phase too.

So, why is it that I am terrified of NOT having babies? I can’t quite explain it. I love my life the way it is, and I know babies will change everything, but I've always wanted to be a mom. Every year that desire intensifies. It’s like this calling deep in my being that I can’t get rid of. It’s exciting, but it’s also exhausting.

Four years ago, when Dean and I got married, I started noticing pregnant women. (They are everywhere! Have you noticed? Seriously, look around; one of them is probably waddling by your window as we speak.) I saw one pregnant lady and suddenly I was in my brain nursery! The first dozen times in the nursery were fun. I thought about what mine and Dean’s babies would look like. I thought of names, and talents, and songs I would sing to them. I even picked out the colors of our real nursery. But then nothing happened. Everything remained in the brain nursery and nothing was allowed to leave. I wanted those thoughts to become reality, but it just never happened. That’s where the fear set in.

Four years later and those babies are vicious! If I so much as think about thinking about babies, I get sucked into a whirl wind of jealousy, confusion, and entitlement. It’s hard to come out of their alive. So at this point in my life, babies ARE those scary, giant toothed, creatures covered in scales. I’m hoping that changes soon, but for now, I try to stay out of the brain nursery.