It was a Sunday night, I remember this because we were all watching Whoopi Goldberg in A Knight in Camelot on the family bonding spot some station was pushing, and I was petrified to go to school the next day because my fifth grade class had just finished up our sex-ed talk the week before. There was no way I was going to enter a class where the threat of womanhood could jolt from code nothing to blood-red in the time it took to look up at that Jesus statue over the door and pray no one else was in the bathroom. I had avoided my parents eyes and questions all week (by parents I mean my father's questions, because my mother was keen on having no part in these conversations).
All of the sudden, my father stands up and turns the television off. "Girls," he sat back next to my ma, "we have some wonderful news." I don't have to go to school because we are going to go on a trip to France and have backstage passes to see N*Sync and Hansen! I don't have to go past that sick nurse's office with her repulsive diagrams and pamphlets. Oh thank you God. I love my family! "We are going to have a baby!"
Son of a.....K.C. immediately bolts off the couch (she weighed about fifty pounds at this point... thirty of that was her head and hair) and runs in circles screaming in shear delight, "I have been praying for this every night of my life!!! I want a baby sooo bad. Mom! Dad!" tears are now in her eyes "Every night! God must of heard my prayers. He sent us a baby!!!!!!"
Oh, no, no, no. God had nothing to do with this. K.C. was stealing all of the air and forcing it into that baby-loving arena she was circling. The pressure was causing the whole world to cave in. To my left Meg was crying. I hear ya, sister. Apparently she was sad about being robbed of the youngest title. Small potatoes, Meg, actually small eggs... and fish things. Oh dear, God.
The next day I contemplated pretending to be sick, so that I would have to face my newly enlightened peers. But, realized this meant being home with the parents that acted on that knowledge. I opted for school. I wouldn't have to tell those kids anyways. I could just hide it and then tell everyone that my parents adopted once the baby came. Brilliant.
In my desperation I had forgotten that we knew everyone in town. My mother is one of ten and my father one of four. Their parents live within two blocks of one another and those blocks are right behind my beloved St. Raymond Elementary. I strutted into class with my fake confidence sure I was going to be able to keep this at bay for the next nine months. I wiped my hands off on my uniform skirt (one that was a size too small, but my mother refused to buy a new one until K.C. could fit into this one) and headed from the lockers to my desk. Everything was in order. I was pretty sure no one could smell going-to-be-a-big-sister on me. And by some grace of God, I had done my homework. Life was good.
Mrs. Dome stepped in front of the class and quieted everyone down. The whispers of last weeks lesson still skittering between the boys. Gross. We all stood up and repeated the Pledge of Allegiance and Our Father (I threw in an extra one for his aid in the secrecy) and sat back down to start our science lesson.
"Before we begin today, I want everyone to say congratulations to Elizabeth." The class turned on me before all the blood tsunamied to my face. "Elizabeth is going to have a new baby in her family soon!"
Children's eyes are naturally large compared to their face. If you tell them something that they know is both gross and totally inappropriate they become only eyes and gaping mouths. No one said anything for a fourteen Hail Marys.
"Yeah, Mister Dix," one of the boys giggled out.
Oh, Shit.
* * *
This was my family in 1998 and not much has changed since. My parents opened an ice cream shop. Grace had to have a root canal at age 3 because she was sneaking Laughy Taffys off the bottom shelf and storing them in her teeth. K.C. (head proportional) is 20, a student at UWM-Milwaukee, killer singer, and hard-headed beyond belief. Meg, 17, best athlete I have ever met, capable of making anyone laugh (even when getting in trouble), but, again, 17... a joy for us all. Grace, recently 11, is the typical youngest and loving every moment of it. She is now raising herself, but feeding us the necessary reports of daily life. I am the oldest of the clan, 22, moved back into my parents home after going to school out in New York and trying to remember how to be a part of the natural flow of things around here.
