Pondering the future...

Hola, everyone! Hope all is well. Since I’ve spent so much time chatting about how the universe seems to get involved with most of my life-altering experiences, I figured I’d let you in on the latest it had to say to me. It can be kind of tough to decode sometimes, but usually worth the effort. It’s kind of like holding a conch shell to your ear, and hoping you don’t find a hermit crab inside while you listen to the message.

As I said, the trip to Mexico was great. Even the trip back, replete with detours – we sat on the tarmac in Denver because we couldn’t land in the Springs for two hours – turbulence, and attempts to assuage the travel gods, wasn’t bad. And, the time alone on the airplane gave me some time to contemplate my future. (I know, for those of you who know me, this is always a dicey proposition! I’m just as likely to decide that Timbuktu is where I need to be as I am to decide that the lawn needs a little love.) Anyway, one of the things that the deployment highlights for me is how alone I can be, which, about once a year causes me to revisit my and the hubby’s choice to remain on the outskirts of the cookies and kool-aid crowd.

We use this term with love and a lot of truth. Our family and friends with kids tend to end up crowded together at gatherings and restaurants serving cookies and kool-aid to their progeny, while those of us sans kids sit around with our martinis and artisanal cheeses trying to stay out of the way. About once a year, my husband and I check back in with each other to see if we want to continue to orbit this crowd, or jump in with both feet, instead. We’ve both heard tell of something called a biological clock, and we periodically listen to see if we can hear one or both of them ticking. Nary a tick nor a tock, so far.

But, since I was staring down the barrel of another four months of “Kristen-time,” I contemplated whether having a child would help fill future deployments with finger-painting, zoo-going, and just exploring the world from the level of a two- and- a- half-foot person. As I boarded my first flight, a family sat in the row of seats in front of me. I was in the window seat, as was a three- or four- year- old, who was behaving very well. His big brother, maybe age 10 or so, was next to him, and their mother sat in the aisle seat. The father and daughters were across the aisle from the boys. I was really impressed with how polite the family was and how engaged the kids were in the games and activities their parents had brought for them. It seemed like the three hour flight would fly by.

It was kind of fun to hear how the little things in life excite children, as well as adults. The two boys in front of me were thrilled to get the WHOLE can of Coke when the flight attendants came around with refreshments. After twenty minutes, I heard junior ask where the bathroom was. His brother helped him stand up on the seat and pointed out the lavs at the back of the plane. He looked over at me and waved before he sat down. Cute kid!

Just as he started to unbuckle his seatbelt, the plane hit some heavy turbulence, leading the captain to turn on the “fasten seatbelts” sign. Ten minutes later, I heard the mother ask whether she could take her son back to the bathroom in spite of the turbulence, but she was rebuffed by the flight attendant. Poor kid, I was ruing the fact that I’d had the second cup of coffee myself, but was resigned to sit until we landed in Houston. Junior had other ideas.

I heard his brother say, “Dude! What are you doing? Mom!!” Then the mother leaned across the middle seat to admonish the youngest child for something or other. At that moment, the “something or other” became crystal clear to yours truly. The child had been taught not to wet his pants, and, when faced with no other option, he aimed his stream, rather like a cherub in a fountain you find in English gardens, over the edge of the seat and on to the floor beneath him.

Clever.

However…

My backpack suffered the brunt of the shower, as it was underneath the seat in front of me. The seat populated by Number 2 son who just went Number 1 over the edge of said seat. The kids’ mom quickly ascertained the damage absorbed by my plucky, new (sigh…) backpack, punched the call button for the flight attendant and gathered as many beverage napkins as she could get.

“How many napkins does it take to mop up after junior?” you ask.

“They didn’t kill enough trees to even make a dent in that river!” I answer.

The mom was mortified; the kid was in tears once his brother pointed out, in a voice loud enough for at least ten rows of passengers to hear, what he had done. The sisters were grossed out and humiliated by their relationship to the water spout. The flight attendant was helpful, adding, “Perhaps I should have let him go to the restroom earlier.”

“No! Ya think?!”

After mopping up the worst of it, the flight attendant Febreezed my bag, which helped the aroma a little, but the dampness was pervasive and I was going to have to carry it through customs at Houston. I imagined it going something like this:

“Ma’am, do you have anything to declare?”
“Yes, the kid in front of me on the plane sprung a leak on my backpack. How’s your day?”

“No, ma’am, what I mean is, are you bringing anything into the country like fruit, vegetables, flammable liquids?”
“Ummm…you’re kidding, right? Hey, listen, I’ve got a really nice backpack here. Ya want it?”

I figured they’d drag me off to jail if I answered honestly…so I lied. And, I took my sodden backpack on a sprint through the airport to catch my next plane, stopping just long enough to see that the restroom near my gate was closed for cleaning…

Okay, Universe! I get it. I asked the question, and you gave me the answer. Should my husband and I take the plunge and have children like many people our age are opting to do? What I learned will serve me well in the future:

I will make and serve the kool-aid…but I will never, ever drink it. I will never sit near the kid who got to drink the WHOLE can of Coke, nor will I drink the second cup of coffee on a plane. I will sit in my backyard with my cherubic fountain in sight, aimed away from my backpack, my martini in hand, and discuss adult things with adult people. The leaks I will fix will come from the washing machine or the dish washer. I will do my own finger-painting, I will visit the zoo alone, and whenever I want to experience the world from the viewpoint of a two-foot-tall person, I will lie down on the floor and play with my cats. So, thank you, Universe, for such a prompt answer. I appreciate the fact that you’re paying attention to me. Touche’, Universe! I raise my martini glass to you.

Hey, anyone want a backpack cheap?? It’s nearly brand-new! 