Never trust a six year old.

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I wrote this for one of my classes, but thought it would be a good addition to the blog.  Hope you enjoy! : )

I am six years old and don’t need my parent’s help during bath time. Mom comes by to stick her hand underneath the faucet every so often. She mutters “too hot” and turns the nob slightly to the left. On her last stop, the water has reached past my belly button, so she turns the nob all the way, making my Barbie’s waterfall vanish. I assure her that I am ok and she starts to close the door, leaving it open just a crack. I can reenact the best scene of my favorite movie, The Little Mermaid. Like Ariel, my arms and legs are covered in big soapy bubbles. I cup a big cloud in my hands and let out a great gust as the tiny suds lightly scatter in front of me.

Next, I grab the bar of blue soap and plunge it in the water, quickly putting it back, slightly moved, so it looks like it has been used. I save the best for last, practicing my amateur gymnastic moves using the wide edge of the bathtub as the balance beam. I saw the USA Women’s team gracefully leap around on one during the Summer Olympics. BAM! I am up there only for a matter of seconds when my wet foot slips off the beam. My chin catches my fall on the edge of the tub, and it won’t stop throbbing, but I don’t dare call for Mom, who is watching TV with Dad in the living room.

I wrap the nearest towel around my shoulders and unplug the tub. Mom will be so proud that I did it all by myself. I head towards her smiling, but a little sore with my hairbrush in hand and some hair ties so she can braid my hair. When Mom and Dad see me, they both let out a screech. I look down to see what they are yelling about; a thin stream of red runs down my chest.

A late night emergency room visit and six stiches later, Mom tells me the bad news. It may be a long time before I get to take another bath by myself.

As an added bonus to celebrate SNL 40 Anniversary special, enjoy one of my favorite SNL characters ever. If you are thinking this is a random addition, well there is a bathtub in it.  SO THERE.

Watch Simon: Christmas Drawings with Vinnie

The Junior High Relationship That Stood The Test Of…One Day.

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If I could go back and slap myself in the eighth grade, I would, like more than once.

The second half of my eighth grade year started with me swearing off boys, especially ones named Jack*. I was a new me and I had pulled a Felicity to prove it. My once long thick hair was now cut to a simple bob. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to style it and half the time it looked like I was wearing some sort of helmet. Nonetheless, I felt pretty accomplished with my new look. I knew I had changed my feelings for Jack when one of my close friends, Jenny* started dating him after winter break.

It was new territory for me, finally not being jealous of one of Jack’s girlfriends. It made me feel like I had gotten over him. Once Jack and Jenny got together, I started to realize there were other boys at my school. The ones that I had been ignoring for months because I was preoccupied with being the president of Jack’s fan club. One in particular, Mike* had always hung around my group of friends because he had a similar undying crush on Dina*.

Dina was my next-door neighbor and on/off best friend. Our friendship could be rocky at times, but it was usually petty stuff that was quickly resolved within a day or two. One famously stupid fight was during a sleepover at my house years earlier. I had just discovered the greatness of No Doubt and was obsessed with listening to Tragic Kingdom over and over again. She found this boring (I don’t blame her) and quickly went back to her house. Sleep-OVER. I can’t even remember what she wanted to do, but it clearly wasn’t listening to the same CD on constant repeat. Dina wasn’t really interested in Mike’s funny charm and overall cuteness.

I started to have a crush on him soon after he started messaging me on AOL Instant Messenger (yup, you read that right). Before texting, AIMing, was made perfectly to chat with cute classmates and even total strangers. If there was one invention I loved more as an awkward pre-teen, it was AIM. I wasn’t my awkward stammering self around boys because I could actually think before I typed. They weren’t faced with my cheeks turning a bright shade of red in an attempt to make dreaded eye contact with them.  It was awesome, and my online persona was way more confident than the real me. One afternoon, Mike seemed to be typing in a more flirtatious manner. He talked about my “pretty eyes” and how he loved my new haircut. At the end of the conversation he asked me to be his girlfriend. Stunned, I quickly said yes. It was a dream come true or so I thought.

The next day at school, all my friends were excited to finally see me with a boyfriend. It had literally been years since I had one and it was quite possible that I knew even less about boys that I did in the sixth grade. At lunch, things got hard when people demanded that we do the same things that all couples do after eating. The typical couple embraced each other, with the boyfriend usually standing awkwardly behind the girlfriend holding on to her hips.

Not wanting to break some sort of junior high tradition, Mike and I cuddled for the most painful ten minutes ever. I could feel his warm breath near my ear, as he tried to carry on conversation. I stared straight ahead, panicked, as my friends observed us in our unnatural habitat. Who thought of this way of showing that you were boyfriend and girlfriend? What happened to good old holding hands? I felt trapped and actually couldn’t wait to go to history class after lunch. It was tough to say, but I still wasn’t ready for the pressures of having a boyfriend.

Right before last period, I had made a decision. The thought of having to participate in the rituals mirrored from the more popular crowd was not going to work for me. I couldn’t stand telling Mike to his face, so instead, begged my friend Cas* to deliver the bad news. She was a pretty frank person, she quickly told poor Mike that we were over. It seemed brutal, as she recounted the disappointment in his face during after-school volleyball practice. Our love lasted less than one day. It took awhile for me to even look Mike in the eyes after that. Eventually, we both moved on.

For months, all I wanted was a boyfriend. I flooded my journal with dreams and desires of finding the right guy, but in the end I wasn’t ready. Of course, I didn’t really learn my lesson from this and moved on to other crushes. Even returning to the worst one I could ever have because not matter what he did to hurt me, Jack was my end game. Yup, I was that stupid.

The end of the year, the start of ‘THE BLACK PAGES’

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…sounds ominous…but it really isn’t.

A lot of things had happened in the months after the Halloween dance. After getting saturday detention for being the “ring leaders” of the bathroom war, Anna* and I were seen as resident badasses. It was the furthest from the truth in my case, but I loved the newfound attention that the ‘bad girl’ status gave me. Towards the end of November I once again became obsessed with becoming Jack’s* girlfriend. So obsessed that Anna and I resorted to three-way calling him nightly.

I was, of course, to chicken to talk to him. Anna would call and ask him about his thoughts on me, while I listened intensely with the mute button on. Mostly our little calls backfired because he would say something slightly hurtful like how he thought I was strange and hyper. He followed up, in his slightly raspy voice, that he did think I was sort of pretty.  All I got from the conversation was, OMG! JACK THINKS I AM PRETTY! I dropped the ‘sort of’ in my head because…I was stupid.   I was oblivious to the fact that he was just trying to be nice. Nope, I thought he loved me.

I was getting tired of waiting for Jack to ask me out. I wasn’t just being naive about his feelings, but there was actually a steady rumor going around that he was finally going to ask me. After months of unrequited torture it was going to happen. I filled my journal with all the possibilities of us as a junior high power couple. How, with Jack on my arm, everyone would know who I was. Not really thinking that given his past track record, our relationship probably wouldn’t last more than a couple of weeks. I convinced myself that we were meant to be.

One night, I had finally had enough waiting. During another one of our three-way calls, Anna demanded to know why Jack hadn’t ‘popped the question’. He mumbled something about how he had to focus on his upcoming wrestling season and that he wasn’t going to go out with anyone. The disappointment hit me right in my heart, but it quickly went away because I was the glass half full type girl. Jack said he wasn’t going to go out with anyone, meaning I would just wait for him.  I mean wrestling season was only a couple months long and I could wait. Instead of being mad, I respected his focus on athletics. It only made me obsess over him more. That was until I learned about Kayla.

Within the month Jack had started going out with Kayla, a peppy seventh grader with the body of a tenth grader. So much for wrestling season, I thought to myself. Not only had Jack bypassed me, but apparently he had bypassed the rest of the eighth grade girls and moved on to the younger ones. I started to grasp the reality of my situation. Jack never wanted to go out with me and he probably felt sorry for me. I was over it. The school wasn’t.

The rumors of my obsession with him spread around until it was full public knowledge. So quickly I went from badass ring leader to crazy stalker girl. I kept my head up in public, but honestly it was hard to avoid my feelings in my quiet bedroom. I resorted to spewing all my feelings in what was left of my Lisa Frank Journal.

After so many blows a girl has to do something to keep what is left of her dignity. On New Year’s Eve, I vowed that I was over being treated the way Jack treated me. I had new goals and better yet, I had a new journal. The spiral bound black pages would help me get over my heartbreak and into the new millennium.

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*Names have been changed because….just because, who cares?

Why I am still not sold on this whole “parent” thing.

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When I was fifteen I wanted four kids, a beautiful stay at home husband, and to be a world-class chef (or novelist, or editor for Entertainment Weekly). I figured it would happen when I was old, you know, like twenty-four. I got into my twenties, and my timetable seemed to be coming too quickly. I decided I liked the freedom of no children when my friends started to settle down and have them. There was even a time where I decided that maybe kids were not for me. I ended up getting married at twenty-four. My husband and I were on the same page about waiting to have kids. So we decided on a five-year plan. Five years to finish school, go on crazy trips, and enjoy a childfree existence.

Now at the age twenty-eight, I have one year left and am still having doubts of being a parent. Part of me feels ready, but I feel like it is a constant struggle in deciding. Some days I wake up and go, ” We can do this! I feel like a child would not be that screwed up in this environment.” Other days I question if I can properly take care of myself let alone a baby. Here are three reasons that still plague my decision to have children.

I have no clue what I am doing. 200-21

This concern is one that scares me the most. I am that type of person that looks at all the negative outcomes of a situation before attempting it. It is the same procedure I go through when doing something “daring”, like flying on a commercial flight. What if I hold the baby wrong and screw up its neck? I heard that’s a thing that can happen. What if I don’t know when they are sick? What if I am that parent that forgets the child on top of their car or in a shopping cart? People try to reassure me that most parents don’t know what they are doing. You can’t fool me with your “modest” act people! You are just trying to get us non-child folks to join your parent cult!

I still get uncomfortable around “live” children. 200-8

Sometimes I forget kids are kids. I try to have adult conversations with them. Trying to relate to some kids is really unbearable. More recently I have gotten a little better at this. I have two nephews under the age of four, and we get along just fine. They are pretty awesome, most of the time. I feel like they have helped change my view from “never having kids” to “ok, maybe if they are as cool as them.” My husband and I have already come to the conclusion that we will probably love our nephews more than our own children. The truth hurts, future children of mine. With other children though, I just don’t know what they want from me. I feel like kids are constantly staring at me because they can smell the fear and doubt that I have.

Kids are kind of creepy. creepykid1

I still feel like kids can be creepy. For example, some of the scariest movie moments for me involve old-timey children ghosts or possessed ones looking to murder you in your sleep. They are on par with killer clowns in the freaky factor. With my luck, I would be that parent with a kid whose cats go missing a lot. My fear of children may be based on fictional characters from movies and TV, but real kids are just as creepy. Do me a favor and Google “creepy things kids say.” I will wait. I apologize now if you already have a “creepy” kid of your own.

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I am closing in on my last year before my five-year plan “expires”, and it makes me nervous. I know that my concerns of having a child are at least semi-normal. Right, RIGHT?? One thing I can say is that the older I get, the more I think I can do this. In the end, I know that one day I will probably be a good mom and with any luck, the kid will be pretty awesome too.