Now Playing: Spy Kids

2001: A hefty year.

I turned eight years old in January, and in March I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  The Church has been an incredible blessing to me throughout my life, something I would never give up.  However, the day of my baptism was unfortunately rather terrible.

It was my dad's weekend.  We were living in the new house, the newly-built mansion in Jamul, CA.  There really is no other way to describe it.  It was enormous.  On the day of my baptism, Jeanmarie insisted on doing my hair.  I stood in front of her mirror for hours as she braided and re-braided my hair, trying to get it exactly as she wanted it.  I had not thought to bend my knees, shift around during this time.  I stood straight, not wanting to be scolded for moving too much.  As soon as she was finished she sent me away to do a chore of some sort, but I didn't make it ten feet before fainting.  My vision turned gray, then faded to black.  I woke up leaning over the toilet.  They feared I would throw up.  I felt as though I were on fire, burning, sweating, sick.

As soon as I was able to stand Jeanmarie made sure to remind me that I needed to finish my chores before getting dressed and leaving for my baptism.  Soon we were in the Suburban, me reluctantly dressed in the prickly, shapeless white dress Jeanmarie chose for me, and we drove to the Stake Center.  There I was baptized into the Church, a glorious feeling of cleanliness flooding through me as I rose from the water, and then confirmed with the companionship of the Holy Ghost.

Unfortunately, that tiny moment of joy has been completely shadowed by the events of the day, particularly the darkest memory of not being allowed to speak to or sit with my mom.  I couldn't even pick out my dress with her.  It was at that time, that year, that my perspective began to shift.  I started recognizing that the things I was experiencing in Dad and Jeanmarie's home were not acceptable, they were not what I or my sisters deserved.

* * *

A few short months later, I finished third grade and embarked on a brilliant new summer.  During July, Madelyn and I were serving out our two-week stay at Dad's house.  Dad took the two of us to the movie theaters for what we expected to be a nice treat, having him to ourselves.
This is what happened at the ticket office:

Dad: "Hi.  So America's Sweethearts, that looks good."
Ticket-taker Guy: "Yeah."
Dad: "It says it's PG-13.  Do you think it's ok for these two?" (He points to me, 8 years old, and Madelyn, 4 years old.) Honestly, Dad.  What do you think?
Ticket-taker: "I'm not sure.  It shouldn't be too bad, though.  It's not rated R."
Dad: "Ok great.  I'll take three tickets."

We proceeded to watch that movie in the theaters.  Dad laughed loudly through the entire film.  I cringed in my cushiony chair, horrified.  Madelyn fell asleep.  I am convinced, though I have never watched America's Sweethearts again, that even to this day I would be uncomfortable with the amount of sex and vulgarity in that movie.  Not a good choice, Dad. Not a good choice.  Dad, however, had a grand ole time.  He laughed about it the whole drive home.

Yeah, I thought I looked like this.
Awesome

Later in the year, Spy Kids came out.  Oh boy, I was so excited.  I loved that movie like no other.  Walking out of that theater, I was a ninja, I was a spy, I was going to take down those bad guys of the world and I was going to be awesome.  It helped my fantasy that people constantly told me I looked exactly like the girl Spy Kid.  An inflated ego developed.  Don't judge me.

December 2001 was when we began our family tradition of going to Las Vegas for a couple of days after Christmas.  We got there just in time for the release of the first Lord of the Rings movie, The Fellowship of the Ring.  Kevin, Justin, and Brooke were so excited to see it.  On our second night at the hotel in Vegas, we all trekked up to the in-hotel movie theater and got in line.  Lord of the Rings was a PG-13 movie, too violent for Madelyn and I (remember, we were 4 and 8 years old) so B, J, and K bought tickets for their movie while Mom, Madelyn, Jerry, and I got tickets for a brand-new family movie called Joe Somebody.  I was so disappointed that I couldn't go with the older kids, but my mom insisted that our movie would be fun and I wouldn't really understand The Lord of the Rings even if I saw it.  GOOD PARENTING.
(P.S. Future hooligans of mine — feel free to remind me in the future of anything I label "good parenting" in this blog. Ok.)

So B, J, and K got to watch this:

While Mom, J, M, and I watched this:

Yup.  But I repeat, good parenting.  I was definitely not ready for the evils of Mordor and Sauron when I was eight.  Just sayin'.

And so it goes.

Love, Me

Now Playing: Rocky and Bullwinkle

The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle, a feature film version of the cartoon show, came out in 2000. For some reason that I do not remember, I went to see it in theaters with Jerry, Kevin, and Justin.  I can't recall if anyone else came with us.

What I do remember is this: it was the worst movie ever to be put on the big screen.  I don't remember the plot — I doubt there was one — but I remember the moose-squirrel duo running around, jumping through trees if I'm not mistaken, and doing something to pass the time.

That was one year after the divorce.  My parents divorced at the end of 1999, and my mom started dating Jerry.  We grew up with Jerry and his kids — we had family vacations together and he was in our ward.  So we knew him well and loved him already when they started dating and eventually married.  On Halloween of 1999 my mom moved everything into our new house while we were at my dad's house trick-or-treating.  So by the time the worst movie of all time came out, we had moved into a new home and adjusted to a new school with new friends.

The year 2000 had other good movies, though.  102 Dalmatians made me beg my mom for a puppy even more often than usual. (I got the 102 Dalmatians game on my Gameboy!) Dinosaur frightened me; I kept closing my eyes in the theater.  How the Grinch Stole Christmas was my favorite.  I loved all the colors, funny-looking people, and the catchy songs.

I was seven years old that year.  I was finishing second grade and starting third.  It was also the year that my dad married our next-door neighbor, Jeanmarie — on March 18th — and that day my life changed in bigger ways than I could have imagined.  It wasn't my parents' divorce that changed me.  It was what followed.

It was the 'turn of the century,' a 'new millennium.' I had survived the Y2K scare that I had been completely unaware of, but my life would still never be the same.

And so it goes.

Love, Me  

Now Playing: The Love Bug

The master bedroom was at the top of the stairs and to the right.  The only details I remember are the green-themed bathroom — green towels, green rugs, green soap dish — separated from the bedroom by a short hallway, and the television cabinet standing in the corner of the bedroom, directly across from the queen-sized bed.  There was a nightstand on either side of the bed, and Dad would always lay his thick eyeglasses on the one on his side.  Sometimes I would sneak over and put them on myself, wondering what it would look like.  It was terrible.  The glasses blurred everything into imperceptible shapes.  After I took them off, my eyes would hurt for a little while.

I remember sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the carpet in front of the TV cabinet and watching movies.  The Love Bug was the best one.  Herbie was a tiny Volkswagon Bug with racing stripes that no one thought would be a good racer, but he was really fast and always won the races.  He also had a mind of his own, which I thought was really funny.  I loved to watch Herbie.

  

These were the days before DVDs.  Behind the TV cabinet's doors there were a ton of videocassette tapes stacked in piles.  At least, that is how I remember it.  I would eagerly open the doors and search for Herbie, then take the movie out of its case and shove it into the VCR player.

We also had all the New Testament and Book of Mormon videos.  My favorite New Testament video was the one about Christ's birth, because it had a baby in it! And I really liked the wise men on top of their camels, and the big, bright star in the sky.  I remember Brooke and I sitting on the carpeted floor in front of that TV cabinet on Sundays, watching the scripture stories.

This was in our old house, our first house, in El Cajon, CA.  This was the house with the long driveway and the enormous backyard, with a field of green grass and another field of dirt.  We had a seesaw, a big metal one, planted in the grass, next to the tetherball pole.  This is where we had Sunny, the golden retriever.  I don't remember her—only that she ran away and we searched for her but she was gone forever.  This is when we lived next door to Jeanmarie, Lucy, and Buddy.

One time Kyle, Jennifer, Brooke, and I (baby Madelyn was probably sleeping) were home and were watching TV in the family room.  We were watching a movie about a big boat that Kyle and Jennifer said was good.  I remember there was a part when they told Brooke and me that we had to go stand in the kitchen, because we weren't allowed to see what was happening.  We stepped onto the tiled floor of the kitchen and waited patiently for them to tell us we could come back.  We were watching Titanic.  That is one of the only memory I have of that family room.

And so it goes.

Love, Me