Thanks for the comments on the last post. I was beginning to wonder whether anybody read this anymore. They were encouraging, too, which is what I needed.
One reply to your comment, though, Heather. I know from experience that although writers write, not everyone who writes is a writer. I’ve graded a few too many horrific English papers to believe that to be the truth. That means that if I truly want to be a writer, I have to write. I can’t be a writer without it. But just because I start writing, that does not automatically mean I will be a writer. I still have the hurdle of my own skills to conquer before that can happen. If I really want to be a writer, though, I need to attack that hurdle by writing. Now if I can just find the time…
Now how about a funny story to make everyone entirely uncomfortable?
Several years ago at my sister’s wedding, my entire extended family got involved in a rousing game of Family Truth or Dare (without any actual dares). My grandma, aunts, uncles, parents, cousins, and siblings all answered different questions–both mundane and humiliating. Among the highlights, we learned that at least three out of my aunt’s five miracle children were conceived while visiting my family. Ewwww. My mom hesitated to answer the same question in front of her children, but finally admitted we were all conceived at home.
A few days later, my brother, whose mind already works like this, named the bed my parents had all through our childhood years “The Conception Bed.” The name grossed us all out at first because we had each slept there from time to time, and it was disgusting to think about what activities had taken place there for years.
But the name stuck. The bed was moved into one of the guest rooms at my parents’ new house after we all moved out officially. We needed names for each of the rooms since they no longer had owners to name them after, and that room became the Conception Bed Room. Even all of our spouses flippantly call the room that now. The family joke has become so commonplace that we don’t even think about it any longer.
The bed has somehow earned a reputation since being named, though. When I got pregnant before I was married, that room was always my room when I/we visited. None of my siblings were ready to become parents yet, so I was the only “safe” one to stay in that room. About the time I got married and the pregnancy became public, my older brother and SIL were trying. Since then, they have always ended up in that room. I have to give my mom credit; she acts as though we can choose our own rooms when we visit as long as we work it out with any siblings also visiting for the weekend, but somehow the “safe” couple or the couple trying always seem to end up in the Conception Bed Room.
M and I are visiting this weekend for PJ’s first birthday. Ages ago I told my mom that we were thinking about trying again once he turned one. I updated her again a few weeks ago to confirm that, yes, that was most likely going to happen. (I tell my mom everything.) I wonder which room we’ll end up in this weekend?
Actually, I can already see my mom’s explanation. A day or two after my mom found out our plans to try for a second, suddenly my sister and BIL decided to visit for the weekend as well. Before, they had been too busy to come. My mom knew that M and I would opt for his favorite room, the Queen Bed room, if all the rooms were open. That is also the most comfortable fit for my BIL, who is a good foot taller than the rest of us. He doesn’t fit into the Conception Bed well at all (although I bet he suddenly will once they decide to start a family). PJ usually stays in the other guest room when its bed isn’t needed, so my mom will encourage us to stay in the Conception Bed to leave the big bed open for Tall BIL.
I think someone wants more grandchildren.
M and I have already discussed it. If several months pass without getting pregnant, we’ll book a trip to see my parents during the time I’m ovulating. Whether or not the Conception Bed is a superstition, it’s worth a try, right?