No kids for me, thanks

Children make me... uncomfortable. **deep shudder down my spine**

I'm not sure if I've always been this way... but yes, yes, I think I have. I think it even started when I was a kid. I was that creepy antisocial kid who wouldn't speak when you asked me why my leg was bleeding. I was that five-year-old who freaked out and ran when the sixth grade girls reminded me to flush the toilet in the elementary school bathroom. And now, twenty years later, I tremble in my boots when I pass a group of "cool" highschoolers on a crowded sidewalk. I look into the parents' faces when their angelic toddler is asking me for "boobewwies" in her smoothie and ask them what they want to order, ignoring their little princess entirely. It's so weird. I can't quite seem to categorize this quirk of mine into one neat packaged diagnosis with a pink bow checkmarked on top. What I DO know is that just this year I've started being able to hold my baby nephew and not worry about him crying in my arms, and I can actually babysit my four-year-old niece without worrying that I'll be crying in her arms by the end of the night. It's not that I'm not maternal at all... is it? I mean, I think my most infamous quote was when I said to my siblings, "It's not that I'm not maternal... it's just that it doesn't come naturally to me." They pointed out that that is EXACTLY what not being maternal is. Whoops. But I mean... I dunno. I definitely care about people sooooo much! And I'm very maternal when it comes to my friends and family-- I'll be the first person to help you clean yourself up if you get sick from drinking too many kamikazees. And I'd like to think that if someone is sad or hurt or having a bad day, I do what I can to offer my love and support. But when it comes to taking care of children, I've always been the first person to shout "Nose goes!" and run from the room tapping the sunburned tip of my own nose ferociously. There are just so many RULES about caring for children!!! Like, all these unsaid "obvious" things that apparently eeeeeeverybody knows except for poor ol' (singlewhitefemale). 


When I saw my new nephew Liam for the first time he was just a teeny tiny little baby, probably... six weeks old? Maybe less? I was so proud of myself for not being scared of him. I was balls-out competing with my sister Hannah ("the baby whisperer") to hold him, and when he was in my arms I instantly felt my heart melting. I was so impressed with his minute perfection, from the tiny tips of his rosy fingers to the fine wisps of blonde fuzz curling at the crown of his head. I gazed at him, hypnotized by the rhythmic rising and falling of his perfect lungs in his baby ribcage. He cocked his head to the side and studied a fly on the wall, taking in his surroundings and amusing me with his cleverness. Or so I thought, until Hannah walked over to me and stuffed my arm under his head, explaining that I needed to support his neck.


Shit. 


When Liam's older brother Aiden was about two years old, Hannah and I were visiting him and my sister Brooke in Palo Alto. Aiden was in his crib fighting desperately not to fall asleep for his nap, while we watched him on the baby monitor video and discussed where we wanted to go for a scenic walk that afternoon. We decided on a park and Brooke gave me the option of us either leaving right away or waiting 'til after Aiden woke up from his nap. I was confused. "Now" sounded better to me... but... it made me really uncomfortable to think about leaving Aiden all by himself while we all went for a walk. What if he needed something? What if he started crying? Or got hungry or something? Yeah, that's messed up, I thought, and bolstered by my selflessness I said loudly to Brooke that we had better wait because I didn't think it was right to leave Aiden here in the house by himself. My sisters just stared at me, stunned. I don't remember their exact words, because I started blushing so badly that my ears were ringing, but the gist was "OF COURSE WE'RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE HIM ALONE (YOU SEXY, BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL PERSON)! HE WOULD COME WITH US NOW, OR WE WOULD LET HIM TAKE A NAP FIRST (YOU GORGEOUS AND INTELLIGENT BEING)!"Everything in parenthesis is what they meant to add on but carelessly forgot in their excitement. Needless to say, I was crossed off the list of potential Aiden-sitters for a while.

What's funny is that no matter how old I get, kids can still get to me really easily and make me feel insecure. One Christmas, years ago, my extended family was all decorating gingerbread houses and someone was explaining where their gingerbread "people" were going to go. You know how sometimes everyday words sound foreign and un-wordy? Well, I was having one of those moments and I was muttering quietly to myself, "people," "pee-pull," "pea-poll," etc., etc., when my cousin Whitney, twelve years younger than me, turned to me and said quite accurately,

"You're weird."

Everyone laughed so hard that Skittles shot out of their noses and fell into their gumdrop trees. I laughed nervously for five seconds and then pretended to be passionately engrossed in the icing on the Redvine sled I was crafting self-consciously in my lap.

Kids are just brutally honest. That's where that expression, "from the mouth of babes" came from, right? Wait, is that a bible quote? Err... I dunno, but it's definitely SOMEthing. When I was dating my college boyfriend I went to his sister's wedding in the Bay Area. I got this adorable, retro-ish floral mini-dress just for the occasion. It was on sale at Banana Republic and I felt so grown-up and sophisticated when I posed for myself in the dressing room wearing this fabulous dress, and I was so excited to wear it to the wedding. I was helping set up all the decorations, and when it was time to change I rushed upstairs and threw it on. But where did it go? I stood, staring into the mirror at the lack of fabric that failed to cover more than my upper thigh. Maybe no one will notice that my vagina is about to be added to the guest list of appearances?? I didn't know what else to do, so I composed my body language into an over-confident strut down the stairs to meet my beau and his friends. I noticed as I was walking down the stairs that the old man sitting with his walker below me could see absolutely every inch of my thighs, hamstrings, and bare buttocks thanks to the thong I wore under my shirt-- I mean-- dress. When I reached my boyfriend and his friends they all raised their eyebrows and politely commented that my hair looked nice, making a point not to stare at the entirety of my stems jutting out from the two-inch band of fabric across my crotch area. It was then that the groom's niece pushed through our group and walked straight up to me:

"Where are your bottoms???"

I died.

"Uh... this is a dress...." I was so thankful that everyone decided to be temporarily deaf and not even laugh at the embarrassment beading up sweatily on my red forehead. I spent the entire ceremony nabbing people's discarded sweaters to cover my ass (literally) because I discovered immediately that upon sitting, the dress failed to cover more than my belly button. I could feel muffled laughter beside me, but I was still not ready to laugh about the fact that the sun reflecting off my white bottom was creating shafts of glittering light that competed for attention with the beautiful couple exchanging vows in front of me. The SECOND the ceremony was over, I rushed upstairs and threw jeans on under the dress, mortified by how many members of this family I had shown my goods to in the last hour. I was guzzling champagne in grief when I heard my boyfriend call out to me to get in the family pictures. I choked on my bubbly and yelled back in dread, "SHOULD I TAKE MY PANTS OFF??!" I'll never forget the way everyone's jaws dropped in perfect synchronism and how my boyfriend's frowning head started shaking back and forth as he sighed at me to "just get in the picture (singlewhitefemale)."

Maybe that's what it is.... Maybe kids don't react with society's common courtesy to my social awkwardness. They call me out on my shit and don't let me get away with bumbling awkwardly along while everyone around me pretends it's perfectly fine that I'm maniacally tapping flute notes on my fingers and hissing next to you in line for the ATM. Huh. Maybe that's it, I dunno. What I do know is that I have fallen head-over-heels in love with my niece and two nephews, which has truly changed my life. However... they are the ONLY exceptions to my fear of children. Anyone not related to me, forget about it. When one even walks near me I back away slowly, nervously sticking my hand out to let it get used to my scent so it won't bite me.

It's not that I'm not maternal, it's just that it doesn't come naturally to me.

Jesus would NOT do April Fool's

So... I HATE April Fool's Day. I remember the first time I was ever pranked on the first of April. I was in the third grade. I was getting ready for school, which usually consisted of me running around red-faced, yanking a comb through the rat's nest in my hair and choking back some breakfast as I scrambled to collect my oil-stained homework from the night before. On this particular morning, I was flinging a sack lunch into my backpack when my mom called to me calmly from across the room.


"(singlewhitefemale), there's a spider in your hair."


WHAAAAT?!!! "WHERE?!!!" I was clawing ferociously at my tangles as my mother walked over, smiling softly, and stopped in front of me to put a loving hand on my shoulder. 


"April Fool's!"


I remember standing there, confused, still trying to flick the insect-octopus out of my bushy mane. My mom had to explain the whole foundation of the April Fool's trickery to make me stop slapping at my neck in fear. Sooo... on this one day... every year... people who you trust to always tell you the truth are allowed to suddenly betray you and play with your heart and emotions??? I didn't like that. Not one bit.


I've been really fortunate since then as far as being "punked" on this holiday. Any jokes played on me have been harmless, and as such forgettable. That is... until this year. This year I was the accidental victim of a joke that had me almost suicidal with fear. And I'm not even joking. 


Last night I was sitting in the office at my restaurant after a really busy evening in our cafe. I was counting up money and recording the day's sales when my phone lit up with a text from one of my best friends in Santa Barbara. She wanted to know the name of a guy I'd hung out with briefly earlier this year in one of my drunker times. That's weird. I gave her his full name, and then received this text:


"That's what I thought. Did you know he's HIV positive?"


The sky fell down.


I sat there. And sat there. The color drained from my face... my hands... my outlook on life.


You see, I've always known that I've been extremely lucky. It's not like I've ever run around sharing needles or whoring myself out on street corners... but I've definitely made some really bad choices in my life when it comes to taking care of myself. The biggest reason for my moving away from Santa Barbara was to give myself a new start in respecting my worth and taking care of my health. My motto for life has REALLY been "whatever happens happens,"so my relationship with this guy my friend was asking about kinda just came out of that. Not to say he isn't a cool guy or whatever, but he fit perfectly into a time frame when I felt more lost inside my head and skin than ever. 


So.


Like I said.


I've always thanked God (profusely) for watching over me and protecting me from my own mistakes, and when I got that text... it all just clicked into place in my head. That actually, God had other plans for me. That actually, I wasn't going to slide by this time. That actually... my biggest fears had come true. 


In a twenty minute time frame, I went from spinning disbelievingly in a dream-state to accepting my fate. I had already figured that I would never be able to outsmart the disease like Magic Johnson with his billions of dollars; no, my path would be much more humble, much less glamorous. I called upon all the references I could from documentaries, movies, TV... trying to picture the abrupt change to my future that I was sure was about to take place. While I sat in my office chair, visibly trembling, my skin whiter than the hands of priveleged women in the 1800's, I had employees bustling in and out asking me about their tasks and could they please go home. 

"Go... live your lives... LIVE!" I heard my voice climb from the depths of its sadness to the rim of a twenty-five-year-old well, full of substance from the short life I'd lived that now seemed so conclusive. 


They looked at me and said, "Kay cool," and clocked out from work.


It was then that my phone lit up again, and my shaky hands battled passionately with the touch-screen feature as I fumbled to read the new text from my friend:


"Oh shit. It's April Fool's Day. Do you think that maybe it's a joke?? I just saw it on facebook, I dunno."


A flush of color returned to my face. A lot of it. I told her to find out, please, because I had already started writing my will and I was a little busy. Within a few minutes, she responded with a flood of texted apologies and embarrassment. It had all been... a prank? That was never intended for me in the first place? 


I couldn't... quite... understand. I called my friend and after getting the full story, my mind began to slowly hug the truth closer and closer, and the tunnel vision that had formed in my sight began to broaden once again. Only this time, everything was rainbow and sparkly and radiating a warmth of love and forgiveness and hope and possibility and prosperity. IT WAS A JOKE!!! **maniacal laughter** 


Anger and relief battled their way through my blood stream. I had aged a hundred years in those twenty minutes. The new wizened me flexed her compassion's muscles and shoved the anger out of my heart. So what if it WAS the meanest, most stupid joke to play on your facebook friends who, by the way, are real people with real reactions and real terror? It was a JOKE and all the world is LOVE!!


I left work last night with a stomach-ache and a heart full of dreams. My body refused to keep up with my fast-paced transition from mortal dread to ultimate gratitude, so my abs were still cramping with fear, and tremors continued to shimmy through my nerves as if my adrenaline alone were responsible for reviving my previously numb body. My head, however, was doing zero-gravity Zumba-hip thrusts in the weightlessly ecstatic environment it had just entered. IT WAS A JOKE!!!!


I didn't sleep last night. My body STILL refused to buy into the punch-line and insisted instead on revving up my vital organs into survival mode. I prayed and tossed and turned and prayed some more, half frustrated with exhaustion and half giddy that I could be allowed to be frustrated at so trivial a thing. 


So what have I learned?


Well, I thank God (again!) for sparing me, and the gift has NOT been lost on me. Since moving to Encinitas, I've essentially become a nun. Well, a nun who drinks Bud Light with Lime and says the F word every fifteen minutes. At this point in my life, I'm finally understanding the consequences of my decisions and my jack-assery (as my best friend Bex's mom would put it). I am thankful each day for the happiness I feel and for the opportunity to focus all my energy on radiating and absorbing more and more positive energy. 


I've also learned that on April 1, 2012, I will go sit in a vacant field of grass for twenty-four hours and leave my cell phone behind so that no way, NO HOW, will I be the victim of another April Fool's crime. Not okay. 


I sure hope there aren't ghosts in that field of grass... cuz that would be scary.