Memory Lane

I took a stroll down memory lane this week, and by stroll I mean I drove thru my home town. After nearly 15 years of being gone, so much has changed, and yet, so much is still exactly the same. Everybody still knows everybody. The square is still the center of everything, and it's still the kind of town every kid dies to get away from but ends up missing when they're gone.

The memories washed over me like a summer rain, while the emotions hit me like a hurricane. I remember growing up just waiting for the day to move away. Now as I sit in the suburbs and listen to the hustle and bustle around me, and I'd love nothing more than the house with 5 acres in the middle of nothing to call my home.

I miss the Friday night lights and low roar coming from the football stadium, waking up on Saturday morning to see which friend's house got toilet papered, running in to at least 3 people you know every where you went, watching the rows of corn as you drive past, and the dust rolling across the field as they harvest the crops.  All the things I despised then, but I'd love to have now.

My family stayed about 5 years after I left. The last real memory from there was my sweet tiny 2 year old girl running after my sister's van as they drove away for the last time. I've never cried so hard in my life. You'd have thought someone died. Looking back something did die that day; a past time, a life time, my childhood. It was all over. I've been back many times since that day, but that moment is forever stamps in time. That was when home moved away.

It's funny how all I wanted growing up was to get away. I'd give anything to go back now. Getting stuck behind a tractor wouldn't be so bothersome, because it's good to just slow down. This world is in such a hurry. We are all rushing to the next event. It was absolutely amazing to go somewhere, where time seemed to have stood still. I guess for years I've been searching for home, not realizing the people in that van were my home. The house we lived in still stands, but the structure hooks no value. Is the love we shared that cake its weight in gold.

The unwritten chapter of "what to expect..."

As I stared at my 1 day shy of 2 year old boy’s face this morning, I realized they left out a chapter of “what to expect when you’re expecting”, and they certainly left out a few of the toddler year version.  I think if they’d written these portions of the book, birth rates would plummet.

 
No one shares the real story until after you’ve had the baby.  That’s when they sit around sharing the horrors thru their eyes.  Up until then the worst thing anyone ever tells you is how far away from the hospital they were when they went into labor.  Trust me. Delivering the baby on the side of the freeway in the back of the van is miniscule on the grand scale of parenthood.  

This is where I will put the disclaimer in.  I will tell you this is not for the weak at heart.  This story is not for those on the fence about having kids, and it’s not for the dads why don’t want to remember. It’s a tad bit graphic, real, but still light hearted.  But I reiterate, it’s REAL.

Having children is a joyous event.  Not all women are maternal, but for me having kids made me feel complete, and I just wanted more.  Even now, as crazy as that sounds I would have another if possible. I love babies, it’s the attitude that follows I was ill prepared for.

We go through 9 months of misery, and yes, many will criticize me for saying that, but I hated every day I was pregnant.  From being sick, tired, nauseated, fat, miserable, irritable, cranky, ugly, having acne, weird cravings, gas, the whole nine yards, it was not fun for me.  They were each worth it, but I did not under any circumstances enjoy being pregnant.  What they failed to communicate was that that’s the easy part.  

They tell you in the book that you may have “a little extra weight” after delivering the baby, and “this goes away after a few weeks.”  Um, at what point do we decide to share with these ladies that this may never go away?!  First, it’s not a little extra weight.  It’s at least 10 pounds of what feels like loose, cookie dough coated in laundry soap jiggling in plastic wrap.  Veteran moms call this the jelly belly.  Second, you may very well have it 3 years down the road.  Just depends on if you work out. Or did your muscles split and you can’t work out without medical or surgical intervention?  

Child birth puts the “max” in maxi. No other time can I see a reason to wear a 6 inch wide by 30 inch long diaper with no straps, but we won’t go into the details there.  Just know it’s maximum discomfort.   

All of this I’m convinced is to prepare you mentally for the day when the terrible 2’s hit.  Yesterday all the preparation made sense.  Every struggle was getting me ready for this.

Imagine a little boy with bright blue eyes leaned over the arm of the chair staring at my drink.  He’d already drank his, and now he wanted mine. With each word there was a tiny hand that tapped my shoulder.

“Mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap)”

“Yes?”

“I want some.”

“No, you had yours. This is mine.”

“Whhhhyyyyyyy?”

“Well, because I said no.”

“Hmmmmmm….. mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap)”

“Whaaaaatt?!”

“I want some.”

“No, we just had this discussion. No.”

“But whhhhyyyyyyy?”

“Because I said so.”

And we began again.  This went on for several rounds, before I finally got up and left the room.  Kids are resilient, but no one tells you that you will have training before you get to the heavy weight rounds.  If these conversations didn’t happen, you’d snap the first time they threw themselves into the floor in the middle of the toy store and had a full out melt down.  You’d have a come apart as well. Instead, because you’ve prepared for this you gently grab your child’s arm, whisper his demise in his ear and pray he doesn’t call your bluff.

 
No one tells you that you will negotiate with terrorism for years. No one shares how your kids will beg for something and then have nothing to do with it once purchased. No one tells you about the naked Barbie phase of the toddler years.  Yes I said NAKED BARBIE PHASE.  It’s the time in life when your child must be accompanied into town with a naked Barbie, sometimes 3.  You’ve purchased tons of clothes, but none are ever found until years after the Barbie’s have disappeared.  Naked Barbie’s will haunt you in the bath tub, in your car, your yard, your bag, possibly your dreams.  There is the crayon in the pocket time as well.  Inevitably you will ruin an entire load of laundry, because you washed and subsequently dried a crayon.  You will wipe snot with your bare hand. You will accidentally stick your hand too far into the diaper and come up with “muddy” fingers.  There is vomit, urine, feces, ear wax, dead skin, finger nails, all this to deal with.  At least once a year your tiny human will  give you a near coronary experience by jumping off something too high, taking a massive tumble down a rigid and insurmountably hard surface, or ingesting a substance they should have known better than to touch but did it anyways.  

 
They’re kids. As I have stated before, they will take you to your breaking point.  It’s all a part of the process.  Once you reach the point when you can hear them cry and just nonchalantly turn and tend the mess, you’re not done.  You’ve just leveled up.