Carrie Link

MY LOT IN LIFE

Today I went with my son's class on a field trip to OMSI, Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. I was in charge of three boys, my son being one of them, and as all my faithful blog readers will recall, he counts as four, plus his friends, another "4" and a 1++. My friend, we'll just call her some generic name, like Susan, was with three girls. They are each 1-, they actually bring DOWN the class count because they are all so perfect and well-behaved. If the teacher walked out of the room my three would be the ones leaping on the tables and shouting, "Hey, everyone, the teacher left!" Her three girls would have their heads down, trying their best to ignore the trouble makers, all the while busy getting their work finished.

We arrived at 9:40 A.M. By 9:50 we'd covered every inch of the gigantic two-story building. We'd stopped for drinks and each used the restroom. As we blitzed past "Susan" and her three for the second time, they were quietly coloring, in exactly the same spot we'd last seen them. She began to laugh.

"It's funny watching you," she said, "you're like frantic. I'm all hmmmmm... this is a more fun than I'd be having at home."

"Oh, yea, this is hillarious! I'm obviously being punished for a past life. In my next incarnation I'm coming back as you."

"Driving over here I was just sipping my Starbucks, listening to my new CD, and gathering my thoughts, it was nice. How about you?"

"I had five kids in my car, each one was telling me something really important, in a really loud and repetitive way. I threw back 3 Advil on the way over, and I'm still nearly blinded by the pain of the headache they brought on."

The next two hours proceeded in much the same way. As we saw each exhibit for the tenth time, as my head constantly shot up in panic as one of my three made it out of my peripheral vision, as I massaged the spot on my head that was twisted in pain, I thought, "You know, this is my lot in life. It's what it is. I don't know any different. I am not, and never have been, the lady with the well-behaved children. And that's fine."

Actually, being the lady with the well-behaved children is going to have to wait a couple of lifetimes. I've already promised the next one to being a Broadway star with naturally red hair. I want a voice that will break glasses and a stage presence that leaves the audience in tears. I plan to be a child that raises the roof, calls her own shots and sets the world on fire. Guess I won't be the one you want to take to OMSI.