Monday, May 7, 2012

The Time The World Exploded.

This morning I came out of the cave to see K.J. and Olivia looking through their baby books and telling each other stories from them -- they basically have their own books memorized. They were happy to see me and then used me as their confirmation source for their versions of the stories.

It's fun to look back at their lives and feel happy for all the good times we've had together.

I have many interesting stories from my  own life.
For instance, the other day my Mom mentioned an incident I'd been thinking about just the day before (isn't it interesting how that happens? Karma? I don't know). Prepare yourself. It goes like this:

When I was about 12-13, I developed a terror of nuclear bombs. I don't know why, other then I had learned about them and they sounded real bad, and also, I think I must really love having irrational fears (case in point: fear of doctors appointments... fear of airplanes... these things keep me up at night and are clearly very irrational). It was sort of a toss up as to what concerned me more -- nuclear bombs or the Second Coming. Sounded to me like I was going to be annihilated either way.

Have I mentioned how happy I am not to be 12 or 13 anymore?
I'm real happy about that.

So anyhow, trying every day to ignore tense world relations and all the psychotic world leaders that were probably planning my doom, I went on my merry little way up to girl's camp. My Mom was the Young Women's president at the time, so she was up there rockin' it, too. My BFF Haley and I were walking in the pitch black from our tent to the fire when BOOM! This gigantic burst of noise that shook the trees (and us) exploded. Of course, it scared the living poop out of us. Our fight or flight instincts took hold, so Haley jumped on me to protect her and I beat her off and ran (apparently I'm not willing to save those I love in these instinct situations). We bolted to the fire where all our leaders were.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!?" We squeaked out with fear and trembling.
"Don't worry," my Mom answered "It's just a nuclear bomb."


My worst fears realized.

As my first instinct was to be saved, I said "Oh, God" -- praying out loud with those two words that meant "SAVE ME, PLEASE" -- but apparently sounded like I was taking the Lord's name in vain.

So my Mom was shocked. She gasped and said "ma-RIE!"
At which point, my beehive leader Sister Eve's said "Jill, you just told her there was a nuclear bomb!"

My Mom, very surprised, goes "Oh! I did? I meant to say it was a sonic boom. It was just a sonic boom."

At which point I had no choice but to go put my string bean body that was now taller then my Mother's on her lap and cry, because she is my Mom and was at that moment both my comfort and source of my heart palpitations.
She still doesn't know why on earth she said nuclear bomb instead of sonic boom. A cruel joke of the fates.

And... scene.
Heh. Heh. Heh.

Poor little Marie. She was such a weirdo, and yet I like little Marie so much. Maybe it's because I know her intentions and hopes and desires.
I am happy to tell her that she was not atomized.

We were also reminiscing yesterday about the Christmas season of 2001 when the Double B and I were dating and I just wasn't sure whether I was going to fall in love with him or run screaming for the hills. He called it "The worst Christmas of my life and the best Christmas of my life" yesterday.
I still carry a little guilt. I do love the fellow.
I did, of course, have to take the opportunity to call all of my assembled family traitors because they had no sympathy for me at all. It was me or the Double B, and at the time, they would've picked him.
My brothers. My brothers, those bad men.
I just really didn't know what I was going to do, because my feelings had built to the point that I knew there was only two directions to go: back way, way up and move on with my life with him a distant memory; or, go forward, finish falling in love, choose a much different path then what I'd been planning on, and marry him and bear his children.
I am most happy I opened door number two.
But it was terrifying standing in front of those two doors. Ultimately, what pushed me forward was the certain knowledge that there wouldn't be someone else like Him in my life. I could go on and have a happy life, but I knew in my heart of hearts that if I let him go, I would always regret it. It was almost like when I pondered deeply about it (which I tried to avoid doing), I could see a picture in my mind of me standing on a stage during a curtain call, the light bright and the dust swirling and the audience applauding, and me wondering about whatever happened to him and what it would have been like if I'd chosen him, instead.
I'm glad I don't have to live with that regret.
But it was close there during the month of December 2001.

Poor little Marie. She was such a weirdo, and yet I like little Marie so much. Maybe it's because I know her intentions and hopes and desires.
I am happy to tell her that her dreams were not murdered, they were simply replaced with something better for her.

Now that I've taken the butter knife away from Katelyn and stopped her from hacking away at my bedroom wall with it, I believe I'll get the vacuum out for the second time today and pick up all her cookie crumbs trailing through the house with it. Happy Mom.
Happy Monday, friends.


Elise said...

I was TERRIFIED of nuclear bombs when I was 12-13. I think because I saw Terminator 2. I was a wild one back then.

I don't think fear of nuclear bombs is irrational. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THOSE THINGS DO?!

Good job choosing Door #2. It looks like it has been a good decision. :)

Ducksoup said...

not sure where i have been but just read three so amazingly awesome and spectacular posts. oh man rie, good thing you have a great mom because even though ben is such a great husband sometimes you just need a sister to talk to (call me anytime :)). i promise to say more than "hm" :). ben is funny i think and one of the greatest people on planet earth.. since you'll probably just call your mom know that you are loved up here in the big city.

reading your posts always takes me back to the fears i had as a youth. you'd be surprised that i can even remember a few.

and just so you know i sing the song, "we are different" to maci a lot when i'm rocking her to sleep. i don't know why, that song has just always stayed with me.

you are funny. i want your brain. really, maybe think about it. love you FC. your posts are the best. i want to memorize the awesome quote about being kind. that's exactly what i need to do in my life.