(Thanks to Nicole Barczak Photography for this family photo.)
Last week Craig and I went on vacation. We were in need of some deep breaths – the kind that make you feel human as opposed to the ones that keep you from losing your mind.
Upon arrival, I sat on the elegant terrace with a glass of white wine. I took a sip of liberation. I laid my head against the quaint rocking chair and closed my eyes. The moment was orgasmic. Full of pleasure, excitement, and most of all release.
I opened my eyes feeling lighter. For four days I would not be bothered with the constant needs of my kids. For four days I could live according to my own agenda. For four days I was free. I really liked that story.
I started to admire the view. The beautiful green grass. The flowers in bloom. The creative design of the landscape. The warm rays of the sun on my pale Michigan skin. Then I noticed a sign in front of me:
I began to read the sign and connected immediately. As a mother of multiples, my natural response to the word MULTIPLY was automatic.
I read the definiton of the verb:
increase or cause to increase greatly in number of quantity
I nodded my head in agreement. When our identical twin daughters were born, we went from a family of three to a family of five inside of just two short minutes. That felt like an enormous increase of quantity. And chaos. And confusion. And cluster. And CRAZY.
I took another
sip gulp of my wine. That memory alone required it.
Then I continued to read the synonyms:
increase, grow, become more numerous, accumulate, proliferate, mount up
At first this list was perfectly suitable. But then it was confusing. Then? Downright hilarious!
Let me attempt to explain.
I was connected to, invested in and intrigued by this sign. So I analyzed every single word and how it was used.
I was fine all the way through accumulate. But signals started blaring at proliferate.
I needed to know more about this word. I’d heard it before, but never used it myself. What exactly did it mean?
Proliferate. I repeated it a few times in my head. Funny, I thought, it kind of reminded me of prophylactic. Which led me straight to a condom. You obviously see the
natural gutter-mind progression here.
I squinted my eyes and pursed my lips in eager anticipation of the punchline I knew I’d find.
Mount up was all it took. That phrase had nothing to do with numbers. Trust me.
And lastly the example. In red! As if it’s a warning:
Are you KIDDING me? What kind of a freak came up with this definition?! Was Freud related to Webster?!
I laughed. Out loud. By myself. (Craig was getting me another glass of wine.) It was a deep belly kind of a laugh. The scene in my head was just too funny.
“Oh Craig! Come on! Forget the prophylactic! Mount up, baby! Let’s multiply!!!“
Had this been the scenario a decade ago, he would have run. Very fast and very far. And a decade ago this sign would have meant nothing to me.
But now? Now it was
pure filthy entertainment!
Just like our twins.