Misery Loves Company Installment #4

CHAPTER 4

THE PRE-SCHOOL YEARS II

Or

Missing Parts; A Lesson Relearned

Or

Annette, Annette, Annette

At the end of that tragic summer my family moved across town to a bigger house. The new neighborhood was an older neighborhood with much larger backyards. The street we lived on was long and straight with the sidewalks sloping down into gutters. At one end of the block was a small hill that the street ran down. I still rode my tractor up and down the street, but without the wagon. I tried it once, but it just got in the way. Besides, it just didn't seem right. The hill was perfect to pedal a bicycle, or in my case, a tractor, up and then turn around and peddle as fast as you could going down. The speeds were breathtaking! Sometimes I worried I was going too fast and would lose control, and I would scream in fear. There were a couple of other boys in the neighborhood that were close to my age that would peddle up the hill with me on their bicycles and then race me and my tractor down the hill. That was fun. But every time I would rush down the hill and feel the breeze in my face the memories of the auburn hair tickling my nose and the funny feelings I once had came back. And I never won a race. My tractor, as fast as it was, was slow and bulky compared to the sleek bicycles of the other guys. So, it wasn't long before I didn't want to race any more.

When the days got colder I parked my tractor in the garage and moved my daily routine into the house where I played with my toy cars and trucks. I think I was much like any other little boy at that age. I must have moved several tons of carpet with my Tonka Bulldozer. And with every yard of carpet I moved, my mother seemed to get a little more aggravated at me and less and less patient. I had a hard time understanding what was going on because my dear Mother Protector never got angry with me before. All of a sudden I couldn't do anything or say anything when she was around unless she got angry with me and yelled at me for something. I really tried to please her, but it was to no use. She would just sit around the house all day and get fatter and fatter, and yell at me every time my Tonka Truck would pull up another thread from the carpet. I found out what was bothering her, though. That winter, in late November, my mother had a baby.

I had never really been around a baby since I was born so it was really exciting for me. When my parents brought the baby home my mother would always ask me to help her out. "Go get this," she would say, or, "Go get that!" I was so proud because every time I would help my mother would praise me and shower me with kisses and tell me "what a big boy I was getting to be." My mother made me feel big, and the more she told me how good I was doing, the more I wanted to do for her.

Several days after the baby came home my mother asked me if I wanted to help change the diaper. I hadn't done that yet so I was really excited. I really didn't know what changing a diaper was all about, but I looked forward to “going to get this” and “going to get that” and to get showered with praise and kisses for being such a big help. So my mother took the baby and laid it on the floor and took off the diaper. When the diaper came off I was shocked at what I saw! I was so startled that I immediately ran into the bathroom and pulled my own pants down just to be sure of what I was seeing. Then I ran back. My mother still hadn't put the clean diaper on. "Anything the matter?" she asked me. I didn't know quite how to answer her but I was definitely concerned about our little baby. And obviously my mother hadn’t noticed the problem. She definitely didn’t seem concerned.

"The baby's missing something." I finally answered after a long pause, staring at the baby. My mother looked at me puzzled and then looked at the baby. "Right there," I said pointing, She's missing something, right there!"

My mother looked even closer and asked exactly what the baby was missing. She wasn't going to make this easy. I thought one look at the baby and she should know what I was talking about. Then I pointed right to where the baby was missing something. "Look," I said, seriously, right there, it doesn't have what I have!"

My mother laughed. And my mother kept on laughing, louder and louder. I just stood there with a very concerned look on my face. I didn't understand why she was laughing at such a serious matter. I thought we should immediately call the ambulance and take the baby back to the hospital to get it fixed. But all my mother did was laugh. She tried to control herself several times, but then she would look at me and break out laughing all of a sudden. She laughed so hard that the baby started to laugh, too. I tried to make my mother understand, but it was no use. Finally my mother was able to gain control of herself long enough to put a serious look on her face and turned and looked at me. She knelt down beside me and placed both of her hands on my shoulders. Then with as much seriousness as my mother could muster at the time, and with tears rolling down her cheeks, and between little snickers here and there, she told me: "Misery, she's a girl, and girls don't have those things down there." Then she turned and broke out laughing again.

Then it hit me. Memories from long ago came flooding back into my mind. I had tried hard to forget the hospital, but now the memories of the other me and the another other me came back to haunt me. I remembered it so well. The difference between a boy and a girl. I still didn't know why there was a difference, but there was. I was very curious, and since my mother knew so much, I thought I would go and ask her why there was a difference between boys and girls. My mother had finished diapering the baby and had disappeared into her room. I walked over to her door and was about to knock so I could ask the question when I heard my mother start laughing hysterically. Then I thought it might be better to ask the question later. Instead, I ran back to the bathroom just to look at the difference one more time.