Monday, October 10, 2011

The First Exlamation

You inspired me today.  I'm not even really sure how, because you didn't say anything, I wasn't even with you.  Truthfully, my day felt wasted and then, out of nowhere I remembered... and the inspiration came.  

"Hey, mum, wanna get dizzy with me?"

 
Spinning myself around in circles or having my mother spin me was my cheap thrill as a kid.  I am convinced it is like a drug for toddlers.  Every time my mother and I would get dizzy together we would end our dizzy spell by laying flat on the ground next to each other, no matter where we were.

The first time my mother told me she was too busy to get dizzy with me was about six weeks after my twin brothers were born.  I was so mad that she wanted to "play" with them instead of me, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from getting dizzy, she could deprive herself of the fun by playing with those screaming throw-up machines. Not me! I was ready! The fun was about to start! 

I started spinning and spinning and spinning in the middle of the living room, right where my mum could see.  The boys where half asleep, so they had no idea what they were missing out on, but I knew my mum would be jealous and any second she was going to get up and start spinning with me.  I heard her giggle, so I spun harder.  So what if I was starting to feel like throwing up my PB&J, I had to show my mom who was more fun. 

There I was spinning at a speed that felt like I could take up off of the ground like a helicopter and I kept spinning until I spun right into one of the floral arrangements mum had gotten from the neighbors for bringing the boys home. The vase hit the ground, broke, water went everywhere and I fell to the ground (just because I had knocked something over didn't mean I wasn't suppose to end the dizzy spell in proper form and mum couldn’t really care that much about the flowers, they weren’t a fun present anyways). 

I was on the ground hands over my head with my body still feeling like it was going in circles.  I tried to look at my mother and smile but, the dizziness had my vision completely distorted and then, all of the sudden in one fluid mom motion, I was getting picked up by my shirt and slapped on my butt. 

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID! Can't you see how busy mommy is? NOW, I have to clean up your mess and you've made your brothers cry." 

This was something I wasn't used to... mum was yelling at me?  We always bumped into things when we got dizzy - her yells were definitely because my brothers were crying, this was obviously their fault, so I started crying and in between sobs said, "I hate you, and my brothers."  It was my first slap and my first exclamation of hate. 

Once the boys were around one and a half, my mother got a live in nanny, so she could get back to work.  I didn't understand why we needed a nanny; mum always just took me to work with her.  Maybe mum hates my brothers too?

Her name was Anita, she had to be at least 100 years old, she smelled like coffee and feet, and she wouldn't let me watch TV, ever.  Dinner always came with three vegetables: something green, something yellow and something orange.  I wasn't allowed to step foot away from the table until everything was gone - including my cup of milk no matter how long it took, how much I cried or how cold my food got.   The boys were allowed to go play even if their food wasn't gone, which was just another reason to add to my list for hating them.

After about two-months of force feeding, I figured out a way to trick her. 

Once the boys were finished throwing their food around in their rainbow teddy bear high chairs, Anita would always leave the table to change their diapers.  This left me with just enough time to wrap my food in my napkin and throw it in the trash. 

Yes!  I had figured it out!  Me 1 old lady 0. 

I truly thought I was a mastermind for about a week, until I was caught red-handed throwing my squash, lima beans and corn into the trash.  It was that day that I received the worst punishment a seven-year-old could imagine.  Not only did I get another serving of each of the vegetables that I had attempted to throw away, once I was finished I was not allowed to go outside and play and for one hour, I had to sit completely silent and still in the dining room in one of the uncomfortable high back wooden chairs, facing the bay window where I could see all of my friends playing outside. 

Anita sat in the chair right next to the bay window, knitted and watched me - if I moved, even slightly or spoke one word, my hour started over.  That day I sat for nearly three hours and I cried myself to sleep once it was over.  I now hated Anita as much as my little brothers, but I hated my mother more than anything, because it was her fault that all of them were around.

The next morning Anita woke me up before the sun rose and took me for a walk in the woods.  I refused to talk to her the entire time.  I wasn't in her stupid "silent chair", so I talked to the birds, the trees, the rocks, the bugs - I talked to anything around me, just not her. 

Our walk ended when we got to a huge rock.  The rock was directly in front of a cleared area where someone had begun construction for a new house.  We were not even a quarter of a mile away from home, but it felt like we were in a different state and all I could think to myself was that Anita was either going to leave me there or kill me and my mother would never find me. 

Instead of my well constructed babysitter killer theory, she picked me up, put me on the rock and said, "Yesterday I taught you discipline, ladies always finish their vegetables and all ladies should know how to sit still and not talk - sometimes it is better to be seen and not heard".

We watched the sun rise in silence.

Once we got back home I asked my mum if she thought ladies should talk, she laughed and said, "of course, why", and I said, "I know everyone sees me, I want to make sure that they hear me too".