Yes, for reasons that are far too personal to discuss, we decided that we would accept the blessings of two children and no more. Or as I like to put it, "Girl, Boy, Cat, Dog, done." And, being the learned people that we are, we found out that "it is far easier on the man than it is on the woman." That may be true but I have to tell you, the operation (I call it the big V) was no cake walk. And I now have a special compassion for male puppies that go under the knife...the poor things.
Since I am not a doctor, but I will play one in the movie about my blog...Howie Mandell will play me...I don't want to go into the specifics of the procedure. I also am not, listen to this women, not the guy to send your spouses to when you want someone to talk about how "it's no big deal". I have only one thing to say about that, "ouch." Well, ouch and "I didn't realize there were vise grips involved in the procedure."
But, believe it or not, that is not what I wanted to write about today. I would actually like to talk about the events directly after the procedure. This is where it gets good....
I would like to explain that I carefully planned this procedure. I took one day off work, I rested during the weekend, and was going to work the next Monday. No problem. The doc said there were people who had "it" done and finished working their shifts on the loading docks. The doc was then taken away in a funny looking very long-sleeved jacket laughing maniacally while asking if Walter Cronkite knew what the frequency was. I would like to say, men, if you are contemplating this, bags of frozen peas are your friends. Stock up. By Monday morning I was able to limp and wince my way to work. I'm a teacher after all, I can sit right? (my teacher readers know how hilarious that last statement was) And after all, there was an assembly. That means I get to watch the kids while they watch some performers, minimal stress. I'm going in.
The day went smoothly enough. Morning routine. Check. Reading. Check. Going to assembly. Check. "What are we going to watch Mr. Garrett?"
"I think it is the Chinese acrobats. We'll see."
Sure enough, the acrobats started doing a clever little juggling thing. Great. Then they balanced on a board that was balanced on a can. Clap clap clap. Then one of them did a weird kind of splits that I felt all the way in the back of the room. OooooOooo. (that made me hurt) Another one rolled out a barrel and contorted herself into it...while bending at the waist. I had to look away. Then the leader of the group explained that one of their members was in the Guinness Book Of World Records for something. Ooooh, ahhhhhh. Apparently, there is a category for people who ride on unicycles, balance bowls on their heads, balance other bowls on their toes, and then high kick them up spiraling through the air so they land in a stack on the head bowl. (it's an obscure record to be sure) This woman was the best at it, and she showed her stuff. She mounted the unicycle and then high kicked about ten bowls up to her noggin, to the obvious delight of a gymnasium full of children. Applause applause applause..."well that's our show...but wait! (uh oh) I think you might want to see more!"
"Do you want to see a teacher do this?"
For this next sentence you need to read in a very deep, very slow motion voice...kind of like the "forever" scene in the movie Sandlot.
This is where I break into a cold sweat. I have never, and I mean never, been at a school assembly where I was not the "volunteer." I have held giant snakes, been the dupe in a mad scientist sketch, held props for a magicians, and even been smacked in the face with a cream pie. There's just something about a six foot three man in a room full of four foot children that makes him stand out. I start to think, will they try to get me, and my freshly healing personal wound, onto a unicycle and that torturous seat? They wouldn't. I don't think I would fit into that barrel standing straight upright, let alone bent in half. That's out. Will I need to balance a bowl on my head? What about that high kick? High kick? Are you serious?! Heck! I am not even sure I can manage to negotiate the six steps to get up on the stage! "Maybe they won't pick me." never entered my brain. I was going up. It was now a matter of how foolish they wanted me to be.
Balance and high kick it was. The next few minutes went by very quickly. He balanced things on my head and then put a bowl on my toe. I was desperate for a chance to clue him in about my tender spot and limited mobility. Due to his thick thick accent, I thought there might be a language barrier anyway. And he had a microphone clipped to his shirt. I could just see me leaning in to whisper something to him and then hearing my own deep voice over the school's loudspeakers..."vasectomy." Wouldn't be my first choice. I'd hate to have to move to the Himalayas. I just wasn't going to be able to warn him while I was on the stage. SO there I was standing in front of the entire student body, balancing a bowl on my head and another on my toe, all the while trying to determine how high I could kick without needing to be taken away in an ambulance. Luckily, being known as the goofy teacher around the school helped me get away with sort of pushing the bowl off my toe, sliding it off the stage, and landing it in the audience.
"I guess he will need to work a little harder if he wants to be in the world record book. Right kids?!"
I limped down to my class and managed to make it through the rest of the day without any more physical challenges to my secret place. When I got home I kissed Sylvia, I hugged Kristiana and Jake, and thanked God for His sense of humor...and bags of frozen peas.