The House That Estrogen Built

I’ve been meaning to update here for a long, long time. I’ve had several things that I could have written about – mainly getting towed an arguing with a city and police force on the 4th of July – but I just haven’t really felt motivated, and I think a lot of that has to do with my Master’s thesis. I’m on the verge of the last final push (I should have the first rough draft in the next few weeks) and I think I’ve hit the infamous “writing wall” that real writers talk about. I’m so close but I’ve just lost a lot of steam for whatever reason. But I think it’s time I finally update. It’s a bit ridiculous that I link to this website from the Huffington Post if I don’t actually write anything new.

Originally my intent was to not really reveal much about myself on this website, to be a random guy on the Internet with his pants down and a burlap sack over his head while he posts his thoughts online, but that’s mostly failed. Again, because I link to this blog from the Huffington Post, my face is out of the bag. So hello – my name is Scott Janssen and I’m from Kalamazoo, Michigan. Nice to meet you. Not to be rude but now that we’ve met I’d still like to put the burlap sack over my head while I write. And please ignore any choking sounds you may hear while reading this. I’m just depriving myself of oxygen to get ideas, not because of any sort of sexual kick I get from wearing a bag over my head with my pants off and jotting things down for other people to read. That would be disgusting.

Anyway, my girlfriend is from Springfield, Missouri, which is essentially eastern Oklahoma. She can get mad I call it that but hey, get a map. It’s right there. She moved up to Kalamazoo a little over a year ago and hadn’t had an opportunity to go back home until last week when we synchronized our vacations and made the ten hour drive together to spend a week with her family. Though I had been to Springfield before, the trip was extremely brief and I didn’t have time to really look around and get a feel for the place. Now that we had a week to explore, explore we did. And one of the things that stuck out to me the most is the mega churches they have down there. People in eastern Oklahoma love them some Jesus. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t have a problem with that by any means, but Missouri takes it to another level. They actually have churches that issue debit cards, something I’ve never heard of. Where I come from, churches take your money, not issue you some. I personally found their church-banks to be offensive. Just because Jesus was Jewish doesn’t mean he was a banker, and it’s insensitive and racist to assume otherwise.

One of the more important reasons to visit my girlfriend’s hometown was to visit her family, particularly her two young nieces. Both are under two years old and I know she misses them dearly, though my experience with the two is mixed. The older of the two hates me, and I’m not just saying that because I sense something is amiss. She made it plain as day when, after studying me silently for a few moments, she uttered, “What’s up with your face?” Before I could manage to let what she said sink in she concluded, “It’s a problem.” Now I like kids but I’m not one to treat them any differently just because they’re little. That’s ageist. Just as I was about to respond with a “Well you know what I don’t like about your face?” my girlfriend walked by and I had to play it cool with smiles, though the kid and I both knew how we really felt toward one another.

The youngest kid is awesome and clung to me nearly the entire trip. She’s easily one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever come across, hugging strangers and telling them she loves them. The clinginess had its pitfalls, though. When visiting my girlfriend’s family, because the house was full of people, we were relegated to the foldout couch in the living room, leaving us at the mercy of those who woke up early and wanted to get to the kitchen. And, naturally, some of the first people to awake were the two kids. I awoke one morning to a giggling child on top of me, playfully shaking me to wake up. I wouldn’t have minded so much had her tiny hands brought me a cup of coffee too, but oh well. All was well until she pointed toward a specific place on my person and belted out, “What’s that?”

I immediately panicked. How was I going to explain this one? As I’m sure any guy will tell you, when you first wake up in the morning you’re greeted by an “old friend” below. I don’t know why but that’s just how we work. Maybe our pal below the pants is a morning person, who knows? But I was currently in the house that estrogen built – literally. My girlfriend has two sisters and both of them have one child, and both of those children are girls. They might not know the logistics and workings of “morning greetings.”

I was in a deep panic. The youngest child was clearly pointing in the direction of my Morning Glory, there was no mistaking that. What was I going to do or say? Was everyone in the house going to believe that this tiny child jumping on the bed gave me a rise? They couldn’t believe that! I’m Catholic – it’s not little girls that give us the jump start! I was scrambling for a game plan until I heard my girlfriend say, “And what is that, child? Is that a froggy?”

Confused, I glanced down and realized the child was pointing at the pattern on the blanket I was using, a pattern filled with frogs. It was a sigh of relief like none I’ve experienced in a long time, and I desperately needed coffee more than ever after that close call.

There was another interesting experience on the trip involving Ex-lax and the crimes against humanity I committed in the bathroom at my girlfriend’s sister’s party and the awkwardness it brought, but this post is already long and I really need to get back to my laziness. Hope everyone is doing well.