Wednesday, September 1, 2010

WARNING: Not for the faint of heart. Or boys.

When I was growing up in the hellish halls of teen angst otherwise known as High School, I knew girls whose parents allowed them to stay home when they had their period. (Don't look at me like that - I warned you in the post title.) As in, spend the day on the couch enjoying the comforts of a hot water bottle and some Tylenol while watching Days of Our Lives. Followed by General Hospital. Which was on right before Donahue. When they came back to school they had a note relieving them from participating from gym class. What was wrong with these parents, buying into this obvious nonsense?

You know what I thought? FAKERS. Every. single. one. I had my period, too. It took three days from start to finish and I used maybe 5 tampons.

I never understood the whispers of the girls' voices from under the bathroom stall, "Oh my gawd! I can't believe I just got my period! Do you have a tampon? I don't have anything!" What do you mean you don't have anything? Are you seriously that cheap that you have to bum feminine products from your classmates? Of course you knew it was coming. It comes every 28 days. Mark it on a calendar! Also, I always got this pain in my leg the day before, so I always knew mine was coming. What was wrong with these girls?

I never cancelled plans, or stopped running, or bailed out of gym class, or stayed balled up on the couch - Fakers.

Until, ohmygoodnesswhathavetheseHORMONESdonetome? Was it the birth of Cletus? Is  this menopause? Am I dying? Seriously, I must be dying.

Since Cletus has arrived Aunt Flo has been quite spontaneous at her arrival dates and times, and never with any warning. None. And so now I see (literally) how it's possible for that poor girl to have walked down the halls with that huge stain and I am so sorry I ever thought you were gross.

Did you know there's a standard business size tampon called Ultra? Yes. Ultra. Whatever happened to the reliability of Regular? And my trusted Lite? When the heck did I achieve Ultra status? And why?

And what's with these cramps? I don't know about you girls but I feel like I'm having contractions. Honest to God, the baby is coming, get me to the hospital because I'm going to have to push, contractions. I've given birth to three children and I'll take real labor pains any day. This is insane. I'm chowing down Midol and Pamprin like their jelly beans and they aren't helping.

In case I die, which I feel is a very real possibility, I would like to apologize to all those girls I judged so many years ago. I'm sorry I called you Fakers. I'm sorry I thought you were being coddled and spoiled because you were exaggerating. I'm sorry I doubted you. Most of all, I'm sorry you had to go through so many years of this. It's horrible and I can't believe you endured it month after horrendous month.

And if my girls need a note you can bet I'm writing one!

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Would YOU Get the Baby?

My office phone rang at noon:

Heh-woah?

Um, hello?

Heh-woah. Id's me - Big V. I'm sick. Leavin' work. I feel like crap. I can't breathe.

Ok.

I already puked twice. My head is killing me. I keep coughing so hard I'm afraid I'm going to start coughing up blood.

Ok.

I can't even breathe through my nose, but it keeps running - I've blown my nose so much today. It's ridiculous.

Ok.

So, I told the boss I couldn't work anymore. Usually I just work through it - but this, this is different. I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never felt this sick before. My head is dizzy and I keep feeling like I'm going to pass out.

Ok.

Do you want me to pick up the baby?

No.

*click*


Half an hour later the my office phone rang again:

Heh-woah?

Um, hello?

Heh-woah. Id's me - Big V. I'm at WalMart.

Ok.

I wanna get some medicine so I can feel better.

Ok.

But I don't know what to get. There's like, a whole aisle full of different stuff and I don't know what to get.

Ok.

Just tell me what to get.

No.

Why not?

I don't know what your symptoms are.

I told you my symptoms. Earlier. See, you say you always listen to me but you really don't.

Are you feeling better?

No. Why?

Because if you have enough energy to point out my flaws you're really not that sick now, are you?

You're going to feel really guilty when you learn I died at WalMart.

You are not going to die at WalMart. You have a cold. A summer cold. A sinus infection, perhaps, but you will not die.

But I threw up. People don't throw up if they just have a cold.

Let me guess - you didn't feel good last night so you didn't eat any dinner, but you drank half a container of NyQuil in order to get some sleep.

Yeah....

Then you woke up feeling like crap this morning so you didn't eat anything for breakfast, but you drank half a container of DayQuil in order to try to get through the day.

Yeah....

You won't die. Your stomach lining is destroyed, but you won't die. Go home. Crawl in bed and sleep it off.

Do you want me to get the baby?

No.

Why not? I feel bad if I'm home but he's being watched by someone else.

Why not? Call ten mothers and ask them if they felt like death and could sleep for the afternoon without their children, whether or not they'd give their right arm to do it. Do whatever the majority says.

*click*

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Being a Caterpillar

There's my Dotter.
The caterpillar.
She wanted to audition for a play.

Uh... but people will see you.
And look at you.
And laugh at the lines.
And you'll think they're laughing at you.
And these will be people you don't know.
Strangers.
And you won't be able to crawl under the couch.
Or duck your head.
Or refuse to speak.
Or retreat into your other world where only you exist.

So.
I prayed.
And took her.
And crossed my fingers.

And there she is.

Not only as the caterpillar...

But also as one of the birds:

and as one of the flowers...


But my favorite was the caterpillar.

Because she wasn't in a group.
And she had to be so brave.

And she didn't hide.
Or cower.
Or hate life because she was forced to talk.

She was the best caterpillar that I ever saw.


I almost forgot that this was the little girl who didn't talk.

I almost forgot that this was the little girl we have to remind
to look people in the eyes during a conversation.

I almost forgot that this was the little girl we have to explain
what rhetorical questions are and how not everything is always literal.

No, she's not actually going to eat a horse; it's an expression... no, she isn't lying.

Like the caterpillar who slowly transfoms into a butterfly,
so my precious Dotter is slowly transforming into a confident young lady.

Slowly.

And I'll let her take her time.
And I won't try to force her.

And I wouldn't trade her for the world.