Technically, the funny thing actually happened while we were in Missouri, but some interesting stuff went down on the road trip as well.
Namely, this video clip that Scott was kind enough to capture. (You only need to watch the first fifteen seconds or so to get the gist of it.)
At least my hair looked good?
I eventually woke up, and we arrived in Kansas City for a wonderful reunion with Scott’s side of the family. Seriously…my husband comes from a terrific group of people. I love spending time with them, and think of his relatives more as “our family” as opposed to just “his family”. We had a blast, and his aunt and uncle were extremely gracious hosts.
They also had a home espresso machine, which was pretty much the best thing ever. Picture me creepily staring at it while whispering “I want that.” for at least half of the weekend.
Because there was an outdoor pool involved, Scott naturally resorted to his twelve-year-old self asking everyone (including the children) if they wanted to race him. After participating in the Taylor family version of the Olympic trials, He demanded (multiple times) that we watch him sink down to the bottom of the pool and blow rings of air to the surface. I kept trying to explain to him that the air rings weren’t actually visible from above the water, but eventually gave up and applauded vigorously every time he demonstrated his fancy trick.
Truly, the can of Bud Light in his hand was the only thing distinguishing him from the rest of the kiddos.
I will admit that it’s not really fair for me to make fun of him, as I myself wasn’t always on my best behavior. Try as I might, I’m pretty sure I accidentally shared a story about how I mistakenly ate a bowl of chili with Scott’s fingernail clippings in it once.
In addition to this, I may or may not have divulged that my side of the family hadn’t hosted a reunion is a while as at the last one, my grandmother had too much to drink and ended up making a pipe bomb.
But probably not the best thing to share in the company of in-laws.
For me, the highlight of the weekend was Saturday evening. Scott’s uncle set up a projector on the back deck, and we watched 8 millimeter home movies of Scott’s dad and his siblings growing up in the fifties. As scenes from Christmas, past family reunions, and first days of school flashed across the screen, a smile spread across my face. I glanced back at Scott’s grandmother, who had made the trip out for the day and was sitting in the center of the deck, soaking up fond memories of years gone by. I thought of her late husband, Scott’s grandfather. They were simply two young people who had fallen in love. Years later, here we were: four generations, sitting on one deck, smiling, laughing and reminiscing over these home movies. This beautiful, loving family had all started with them. Two people who had fallen in love.
Eventually, our picture perfect moment came to an end. The sky filled with lightning, and a storm was coming. We carried the projector inside, and headed back to the hotel.
That’s when the “funny” thing happened.
“We should probably start having kids,” Scott muttered.
“Huh?” I replied with confusion. Perhaps I hadn’t heard him clearly. Scott and I have always said we don’t want children. We want to live in a city. We want to travel. We want to play with our cute little nieces and nephews, but not be responsible for changing their diapers or feeding them in the middle of the night. We don’t want to have to worry about bringing life into the world and then nurturing it for eighteen years.
Basically, we want to be selfish.
Also…I can’t even keep a plant alive for more than two weeks.
And then there’s the whole ting about how every single baby I’ve ever held violently bawls the moment they are placed in my arms.
Not to mention the fact that I actually once told my niece to “go watch TV and eat some candy…Auntie Katrina needs to flat iron her hair.”
“I don’t know…” he continued, “Those films just got me thinking. It might be kind of nice to start a family.”
I paused for a moment. Perhaps the Minnesota water has started to fill my brain with Midwestern family values. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was surrounded by throngs of adorable children, including two beautiful baby girls at the reunion. Or maybe, after five years of carrying a chihuahua in a purse, I finally felt the urge to upgrade to a baby in a stroller.
Obviously a stroller with a hook strong enough to hang a purse holding a dog on it. Let’s not get ridiculous or anything.
“Believe it or not,” I muttered, “I was actually kind of thinking the exact same thing.”
I know. I’m as shocked as you are.
Scott and I have since rehashed the details of this conversation, and still don’t know quite where we stand. If we ever do decide to start a family, it won’t be until well after we pay off our student loans, and settle into a place of residence that doesn’t require a twelve-month lease or the use of a public elevator.
But, for the first time ever, I wasn’t totally put off by the idea of infiltrating rural Minnesota with the spawn of “Scottrina”– a frightening thought, indeed.
But also kind of an exciting one.
“Don’t get too amped up yet,” Scott warned. “Let’s think about it for a few months and see how we feel. You know…sleep on it for a while.”
I know he’s right.
But, last night, as I created a map that highlights all of the states Jolie has travelled to, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps it’s time for a different type of child.
You know…the ones that come with opposable thumbs?