How Are Spu Feeling?
I don’t quite remember what wonderful adventure I had that day, but I do remember it was carnival like and there was a lot of cotton candy, chocolate and other such delectable sweets. I snuggled into bed next to my little sis’ completely exhausted and filled to the brim ready for a peaceful night of sugar plum fairies dancing in my head.
Time passes and the sun rises.
When I woke up I was still snuggled up by my lil’ sis, but things were not quite the same. I noticed that I was in nothing but my scivies, and my sister was dressed the same. We were no longer in our bed but on our lovely rust red carpet. Not only was our bed unoccupied but the sheets were ripped off and the mattress was on its side. Hmmm, that’s strange.
We sought out the parental figures for some explanation to the madness. What was it you ask? Well you would never guess, unless of course you’ve heard this story before.
Apparently, while peacefully dreaming my mother heard the sounds a mother hates to hear in the night. The sound of a sweet little one losing their dinner all over the bed. She flew out of bed like only a mother can to rescue her poor sick child and was not ready for the horrid scene that played out before her eyes. There we were, my sister and I, sitting up in bed throwing up all over each other. Whether one of us was sick and the other merely reacting to the other we will never know because neither of us have any recollection of the night. Of puking all over each other getting stripped down and thrown on the floor while my mom worked feverishly scrubbing down the gumbo room. I guess I can’t say it was a very memorable night for it’s a fun story to tell and one I hope to never relive as a mother.
Bethany 2006
Showing posts with label Bethany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bethany. Show all posts
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Friday, October 22, 2004
“FRENCH” KISS
“FRENCH” KISS
I had never been out of the country before and had only been on an airplane twice (from Boise to Denver and back), so when my parents told me they were taking a trip to Europe with my little sister I snuck into one of their suitcases and got myself a free ride.
The first stop was Paris, France. Ah Paris, the city of love and romance. At least that is what all the books and movies tell you. You just can’t leave Paris without getting a little lovin’ from a frenchy Frenchman (as Matthew likes to call them). There were plenty to choose from but I wanted to make sure it was the right one. I wanted it to be perfect, an unforgettable. (Do you honestly believe that’s what I was thinking?)
Our journey began and I was keeping a good eye out for my Frenchman. I searched for him at Notre Dame’, but decided that the gargoyles just didn’t provide the right ambiance. The Eiffel Tower was really putting the vibes out but my parents caught them before I could (ewhh gross). The Arc de Triomphe was surrounded by little Asians, not a Frenchman to be seen. At least I couldn’t see one with all of the flashes from their cameras. I even went out in the country to Versailles hoping to find some royal frenchy, but the only ones I could find were dead or statues. So, it was back to the city. I checked the Louvre, the Colonne de Vendôme, Le Sacre Coeur, La Sainte Chepelle, Invalides, and the Pompidou but to no avail. I was on the prowl every time we walked through a park, got on the métro and in every café we stopped to eat in. We were nearing the end of our stay in the city of Love and I had not yet fulfilled my dream. I was pretty down in the dumps when our taxi came to pick us up and take us to the airport (for the 2nd time). I stared out the window as we passed all the sights where I had hoped to find my “French” kiss, and a single tear slid down my cheek (was it from sadness or the strong smell of our taxi driver, who knows). Little did I know that my dream would yet come true.
The Charles de Gaulle International Airport was probably the filthiest place I had ever been and it was full of people who had not bathed in months and had probably never owned a toothbrush. (I may be exaggerating a little, but it still gives me the shivers just thinking about it. This is how 99% of all Europeans are so you shouldn’t have been so surprised.) We were stuck on the outskirts with all the bums for a couple of hours until we could go through the gate to board our flight. We had too much luggage to wander around so we tried to find ourselves a place to crash. As we walked past this one guy I was so surprised by him that I got nervous and smiled at him. He was a big black man with dirty dread locks and about ten 12oz. cans of beer at his feet. I was about 9 feet away from him and I could smell his cologne. It smelled a lot like urine and beer (Why do you think they call it eau de’ toilette?) We didn’t have any luck finding a seat in the direction we were headed so we turned around and went back the way we had come. There he was again, this time he was smiling at me with his ten teeth. I just kept my eyes forward and held my breath.
We finally found an empty table where we could sit for a bit and kill time. My dad and little sister went for a walk to get out of the smoke laden air and I tried to escape the filth around me with John Grisham. My mom was keeping an eye on all of our stuff because she was convinced that someone was going to try and steal it. She called me back to reality for a moment so that I could move our stuff behind us. She had spotted a suspicious character who seemed to be eyeing our belongings. When she pointed him out I had the feeling he wasn’t ogling the luggage as much as he was me. It was that stinky Frenchman again. After some dry heaves I delved back into my John Grisham to evade his stare.
My mom was mumbling something about my dad and sister when I noticed a pair of cowboy boots sauntering towards me. Oh, the deaf guy must be coming to pick up the trinket he left on our table for us to buy. (This is why some European nations claim to have near 100% employment). This story is gripping. Why is my dad breathing on my cheek? Did he just kiss me?
“Go AWAY you! GO AWAY,” yelled my mom.
Aaaaagh it’s the scary man! I just stared in horror as he licked his lips, touched my face and gave me his bedroom eyes.
My mom grabbed the old man at the next table. “Tell him to go away. He’s touching my daughter. I want him to go away!” But everyone just stared at us wondering what the two crazy American ladies were doing.
As soon as the strength came back into my body I managed to push him away and tell him to GO!
Confused and heart broken (probably very drunk) he left with his tail between his legs, confused as to why I had not fallen for his dashing good looks and charm.
We were still in shock and shaking with adrenalin when my dad and sister finally showed up. My mother recounted the story and made my Dad promise he would never leave us alone again. We took refuge in the corner of the cafeteria from all the weirdoes and the smoke as we continued to wait for our plane. After I finished my dinner I went to put away my tray and who do you think I saw when I turned the corner. Yep, you guessed it! My handsome Frenchman was passed out on a table. I dropped the tray and ran.
Finally, it was time for us to board our flight and finish the rest of our vacation in the enchanting hills of Ireland. As the plane took off I stared out the window and watched the city of love and romance vanish along with the hope of ever forgetting my “French” kiss. The movies and books are right when they say you’ll never forget your time in Paris. I never will!
Bethany 2004
I had never been out of the country before and had only been on an airplane twice (from Boise to Denver and back), so when my parents told me they were taking a trip to Europe with my little sister I snuck into one of their suitcases and got myself a free ride.
The first stop was Paris, France. Ah Paris, the city of love and romance. At least that is what all the books and movies tell you. You just can’t leave Paris without getting a little lovin’ from a frenchy Frenchman (as Matthew likes to call them). There were plenty to choose from but I wanted to make sure it was the right one. I wanted it to be perfect, an unforgettable. (Do you honestly believe that’s what I was thinking?)
Our journey began and I was keeping a good eye out for my Frenchman. I searched for him at Notre Dame’, but decided that the gargoyles just didn’t provide the right ambiance. The Eiffel Tower was really putting the vibes out but my parents caught them before I could (ewhh gross). The Arc de Triomphe was surrounded by little Asians, not a Frenchman to be seen. At least I couldn’t see one with all of the flashes from their cameras. I even went out in the country to Versailles hoping to find some royal frenchy, but the only ones I could find were dead or statues. So, it was back to the city. I checked the Louvre, the Colonne de Vendôme, Le Sacre Coeur, La Sainte Chepelle, Invalides, and the Pompidou but to no avail. I was on the prowl every time we walked through a park, got on the métro and in every café we stopped to eat in. We were nearing the end of our stay in the city of Love and I had not yet fulfilled my dream. I was pretty down in the dumps when our taxi came to pick us up and take us to the airport (for the 2nd time). I stared out the window as we passed all the sights where I had hoped to find my “French” kiss, and a single tear slid down my cheek (was it from sadness or the strong smell of our taxi driver, who knows). Little did I know that my dream would yet come true.
The Charles de Gaulle International Airport was probably the filthiest place I had ever been and it was full of people who had not bathed in months and had probably never owned a toothbrush. (I may be exaggerating a little, but it still gives me the shivers just thinking about it. This is how 99% of all Europeans are so you shouldn’t have been so surprised.) We were stuck on the outskirts with all the bums for a couple of hours until we could go through the gate to board our flight. We had too much luggage to wander around so we tried to find ourselves a place to crash. As we walked past this one guy I was so surprised by him that I got nervous and smiled at him. He was a big black man with dirty dread locks and about ten 12oz. cans of beer at his feet. I was about 9 feet away from him and I could smell his cologne. It smelled a lot like urine and beer (Why do you think they call it eau de’ toilette?) We didn’t have any luck finding a seat in the direction we were headed so we turned around and went back the way we had come. There he was again, this time he was smiling at me with his ten teeth. I just kept my eyes forward and held my breath.
We finally found an empty table where we could sit for a bit and kill time. My dad and little sister went for a walk to get out of the smoke laden air and I tried to escape the filth around me with John Grisham. My mom was keeping an eye on all of our stuff because she was convinced that someone was going to try and steal it. She called me back to reality for a moment so that I could move our stuff behind us. She had spotted a suspicious character who seemed to be eyeing our belongings. When she pointed him out I had the feeling he wasn’t ogling the luggage as much as he was me. It was that stinky Frenchman again. After some dry heaves I delved back into my John Grisham to evade his stare.
My mom was mumbling something about my dad and sister when I noticed a pair of cowboy boots sauntering towards me. Oh, the deaf guy must be coming to pick up the trinket he left on our table for us to buy. (This is why some European nations claim to have near 100% employment). This story is gripping. Why is my dad breathing on my cheek? Did he just kiss me?
“Go AWAY you! GO AWAY,” yelled my mom.
Aaaaagh it’s the scary man! I just stared in horror as he licked his lips, touched my face and gave me his bedroom eyes.
My mom grabbed the old man at the next table. “Tell him to go away. He’s touching my daughter. I want him to go away!” But everyone just stared at us wondering what the two crazy American ladies were doing.
As soon as the strength came back into my body I managed to push him away and tell him to GO!
Confused and heart broken (probably very drunk) he left with his tail between his legs, confused as to why I had not fallen for his dashing good looks and charm.
We were still in shock and shaking with adrenalin when my dad and sister finally showed up. My mother recounted the story and made my Dad promise he would never leave us alone again. We took refuge in the corner of the cafeteria from all the weirdoes and the smoke as we continued to wait for our plane. After I finished my dinner I went to put away my tray and who do you think I saw when I turned the corner. Yep, you guessed it! My handsome Frenchman was passed out on a table. I dropped the tray and ran.
Finally, it was time for us to board our flight and finish the rest of our vacation in the enchanting hills of Ireland. As the plane took off I stared out the window and watched the city of love and romance vanish along with the hope of ever forgetting my “French” kiss. The movies and books are right when they say you’ll never forget your time in Paris. I never will!
Bethany 2004
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Just Like the Big Kids
Just Like the Big Kids
The warm air wraps around my bare shoulders causing beads of sweat to trickle down my tan arms as I stand in the backyard of my home. Rays beating down from the sun reflect off the dark metal of the barrel and it calls to me. My older brother Bruce had been shooting old soda pop cans earlier and had forgotten to hide his pride and joy. Now I can prove to the big kids that I can play with them too, I think to myself. My chubby little fingers stretch out and wrap around the butt of the gun. The wood feels like silk just waiting to caressed again and so I resist no longer. Seven's old enough to be using this gun. I've seen my brothers shoot it so many times before that I know the routine by heart.
I set the tip of the barrel onto the ground so that I can pull the lever. I grip the warm steel, heated by the sun, and use all of my weight to push it down until I hear the click. The sound seems to echo off the fence and ring in my ears. I glance over my right shoulder towards the garden where my little sister Becky Ann is playing, to make sure she is not watching. I can only see the back of her pink tank top and her soft blond curls. She is too focused on something in the raspberry bushes to notice me and so I continue.
Slowly I raise the gun to my dirty face and place the butt against the apple of my cheek. My scrawny arms struggle, under the weight of the gun, to keep it steady. I peer down the long barrel with my right eye at the taunting red dot on the 7-up can.
"Steady Bethany, steady," I whisper to myself. I yank on the trigger and send a whistling B.B. towards my target. The force of the gun sends me stumbling back into the woodpile. Becky Ann jumps from the sudden noise and quickly turns to face me.
"I think I hit it! Hurry, come look Becky Ann," I say as I sprint towards the can. To my surprise I find a small hole within the taunting red dot.
"Wow, you're good," Becky Ann says as her jaw drops open and a look of astonishment fills her innocent blue eyes. "Do it again.
" I love showing off for my five-year-old sister because to her I am a big kid too. As I bend down to pick the gun up from the freshly cutgrass my ears prick at the song of a bird. Like a bold of lightning the thought sears my mind. If I shoot the bird the boys will think I am so cool! I lift my face towards the tree just behind the fence to examine the green foliage for my prey.
"Don't do it Bethany. Don't shoot the pretty bird," Becky Ann says softly with a hurt look in her eyes. "I'll tell." She turns around and marches her little legs back to the garden with her curls bouncing behind her. I watch her pick up an old, plastic, ice cream bucket and begin to search the plants for bugs. I don't care what she thinks. She's just jealous that I can shoot the gun and she can't. My thoughts immediately return to the shiny black gun in my hands. I pull the lever, aim, and then pull the trigger again. This time I was prepared for the kick and managed to remain standing. The soft clank of metal on metal means another hit. A rush of exhilaration starts in my tiny barefeet and moves up filling my entire body. Bethany what happens when you shoot a person?
I recock and aim at another can. The thought flashes in my mind again. What happens when you shoot a person?
"Hey Becky Ann will you come here for a minute? I want you to stand over by the fence. I'm gonna try something," I tell her as a motion towards the cans. She skips to where my chubby finger is pointing and turns to face me with the ice cream bucket still in her hands. The sun catches on her hair turning it to gold. Her blue eyes light up her dirty face and her smile is nothing but white teeth.
I lift the gun to my face like a hunter and stare down the barrel of the gun at this sweet and innocent face. I aim at the center of her head and before I realize what I'm doing I pull on the trigger. Almost instantly the shrills of pain and terror escape the plump lips of that little mouth. I drop the gun and stare in horror at the stream of crimson that is cascading down her forehead and into her eyes, making it difficult to see where I had actually hit her. I just killed my little sister!
Behind me, I hear the sound of the screen door sliding open faster than usual and I am afraid to turn and see who will be the first to arrive at the murder scene. I hear the footsteps rushing down the stairs from the deck and in the corner of my eye I see flaming red hair coming straight for me. Just as Bridgette, my older sister, latches onto my arm I watch my mother fly across the lawn and snatch up her screaming baby. My sister's fingernails push into my flesh as she drags me across the grass and up the stairs. My knees hit the ground as she yanks me into the house, through the kitchen, down the hall, and into my room where she hurls me onto my bed. Her beady eyes peer into mine and singe my weeping heart. She turns on her heels and her flames follow her out of the room as she slams the door, shaking the pictures on the wall.
The piercing screams of my hysterical sister echoes in my ears as I try to bury myself under a pillow. Each scream forces another tear to slide down my dirty face leaving streaks of pink skin. At least I know she's alive, I think to myself, hoping to ease the knots that are growing tighter in my stomach.
At last the crying subsides and an eerie silence fills my room. From under the soft feathers of my pillow I hear my bedroom door creak open. The presence of my stern father surrounds my body as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I prepare myself for the punishment that I am about to receive and slowly lift the pillow from my tear-stained cheeks. Immediately he recognizes the look of fear on my young face and offers a heartfelt smile as he saunters toward me. With his thick hands he carefully picks up my shaking body and sets me on his lap so that he can look into my eyes.
"Do you know what you did wrong," he asked. "I shouldn't have shot Becky Ann with the gun. Daddy is she okay?"
"Yes, Becky Ann is going to be just fine. She was more scared than anything."
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"It's okay. We all make mistakes. That's why Heavenly Father sent us down here on Earth. By making mistakes we learn what is right so we can make it back to Him someday." He continued, "Guns are very dangerous and we must be careful with them."
"Daddy, I will never touch a gun again," I vow and fling my hand into the air.
"How about we just work on thinking about the consequences before we make a choice. Now, there is someone who would like to see you out in the living room." Afraid of whom I will find, I carefully walk down the hall and into the living room rubbing my bare feet through the carpet. To my surprise I see Becky Ann lying on the couch with a tiny, pink Band-Aid on her forehead. Her puffy, red eyes squint as her face turns up into a beautiful smile. I sprint across the room and fall next to her placing my head on her small chest. I repeat over and over, "I'm so sorry Becky Ann, I'm so sorry."
She runs her little fingers through my dark hair and with her sweet voices she says the most wonderful words. "It's okay Bethany I still love you!"
The warm air wraps around my bare shoulders causing beads of sweat to trickle down my tan arms as I stand in the backyard of my home. Rays beating down from the sun reflect off the dark metal of the barrel and it calls to me. My older brother Bruce had been shooting old soda pop cans earlier and had forgotten to hide his pride and joy. Now I can prove to the big kids that I can play with them too, I think to myself. My chubby little fingers stretch out and wrap around the butt of the gun. The wood feels like silk just waiting to caressed again and so I resist no longer. Seven's old enough to be using this gun. I've seen my brothers shoot it so many times before that I know the routine by heart.
I set the tip of the barrel onto the ground so that I can pull the lever. I grip the warm steel, heated by the sun, and use all of my weight to push it down until I hear the click. The sound seems to echo off the fence and ring in my ears. I glance over my right shoulder towards the garden where my little sister Becky Ann is playing, to make sure she is not watching. I can only see the back of her pink tank top and her soft blond curls. She is too focused on something in the raspberry bushes to notice me and so I continue.
Slowly I raise the gun to my dirty face and place the butt against the apple of my cheek. My scrawny arms struggle, under the weight of the gun, to keep it steady. I peer down the long barrel with my right eye at the taunting red dot on the 7-up can.
"Steady Bethany, steady," I whisper to myself. I yank on the trigger and send a whistling B.B. towards my target. The force of the gun sends me stumbling back into the woodpile. Becky Ann jumps from the sudden noise and quickly turns to face me.
"I think I hit it! Hurry, come look Becky Ann," I say as I sprint towards the can. To my surprise I find a small hole within the taunting red dot.
"Wow, you're good," Becky Ann says as her jaw drops open and a look of astonishment fills her innocent blue eyes. "Do it again.
" I love showing off for my five-year-old sister because to her I am a big kid too. As I bend down to pick the gun up from the freshly cutgrass my ears prick at the song of a bird. Like a bold of lightning the thought sears my mind. If I shoot the bird the boys will think I am so cool! I lift my face towards the tree just behind the fence to examine the green foliage for my prey.
"Don't do it Bethany. Don't shoot the pretty bird," Becky Ann says softly with a hurt look in her eyes. "I'll tell." She turns around and marches her little legs back to the garden with her curls bouncing behind her. I watch her pick up an old, plastic, ice cream bucket and begin to search the plants for bugs. I don't care what she thinks. She's just jealous that I can shoot the gun and she can't. My thoughts immediately return to the shiny black gun in my hands. I pull the lever, aim, and then pull the trigger again. This time I was prepared for the kick and managed to remain standing. The soft clank of metal on metal means another hit. A rush of exhilaration starts in my tiny barefeet and moves up filling my entire body. Bethany what happens when you shoot a person?
I recock and aim at another can. The thought flashes in my mind again. What happens when you shoot a person?
"Hey Becky Ann will you come here for a minute? I want you to stand over by the fence. I'm gonna try something," I tell her as a motion towards the cans. She skips to where my chubby finger is pointing and turns to face me with the ice cream bucket still in her hands. The sun catches on her hair turning it to gold. Her blue eyes light up her dirty face and her smile is nothing but white teeth.
I lift the gun to my face like a hunter and stare down the barrel of the gun at this sweet and innocent face. I aim at the center of her head and before I realize what I'm doing I pull on the trigger. Almost instantly the shrills of pain and terror escape the plump lips of that little mouth. I drop the gun and stare in horror at the stream of crimson that is cascading down her forehead and into her eyes, making it difficult to see where I had actually hit her. I just killed my little sister!
Behind me, I hear the sound of the screen door sliding open faster than usual and I am afraid to turn and see who will be the first to arrive at the murder scene. I hear the footsteps rushing down the stairs from the deck and in the corner of my eye I see flaming red hair coming straight for me. Just as Bridgette, my older sister, latches onto my arm I watch my mother fly across the lawn and snatch up her screaming baby. My sister's fingernails push into my flesh as she drags me across the grass and up the stairs. My knees hit the ground as she yanks me into the house, through the kitchen, down the hall, and into my room where she hurls me onto my bed. Her beady eyes peer into mine and singe my weeping heart. She turns on her heels and her flames follow her out of the room as she slams the door, shaking the pictures on the wall.
The piercing screams of my hysterical sister echoes in my ears as I try to bury myself under a pillow. Each scream forces another tear to slide down my dirty face leaving streaks of pink skin. At least I know she's alive, I think to myself, hoping to ease the knots that are growing tighter in my stomach.
At last the crying subsides and an eerie silence fills my room. From under the soft feathers of my pillow I hear my bedroom door creak open. The presence of my stern father surrounds my body as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I prepare myself for the punishment that I am about to receive and slowly lift the pillow from my tear-stained cheeks. Immediately he recognizes the look of fear on my young face and offers a heartfelt smile as he saunters toward me. With his thick hands he carefully picks up my shaking body and sets me on his lap so that he can look into my eyes.
"Do you know what you did wrong," he asked. "I shouldn't have shot Becky Ann with the gun. Daddy is she okay?"
"Yes, Becky Ann is going to be just fine. She was more scared than anything."
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"It's okay. We all make mistakes. That's why Heavenly Father sent us down here on Earth. By making mistakes we learn what is right so we can make it back to Him someday." He continued, "Guns are very dangerous and we must be careful with them."
"Daddy, I will never touch a gun again," I vow and fling my hand into the air.
"How about we just work on thinking about the consequences before we make a choice. Now, there is someone who would like to see you out in the living room." Afraid of whom I will find, I carefully walk down the hall and into the living room rubbing my bare feet through the carpet. To my surprise I see Becky Ann lying on the couch with a tiny, pink Band-Aid on her forehead. Her puffy, red eyes squint as her face turns up into a beautiful smile. I sprint across the room and fall next to her placing my head on her small chest. I repeat over and over, "I'm so sorry Becky Ann, I'm so sorry."
She runs her little fingers through my dark hair and with her sweet voices she says the most wonderful words. "It's okay Bethany I still love you!"
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