Yup, the title’s from a Cher song. I generally don’t like Cher’s music, but that one wasn’t bad. My status on Twitter/Facebook this morning is from Phantom of the Opera, so apparently I am waxing musical this morning.
But this blog title comes from something I got to thinking about while my brain chewed away at plot for Happy Medium this weekend. On Mother’s Day, actually. You see, the main character, Alexandria, is a psychic medium. As she progresses through the story, she also learns she’s got a knack for seeing the future, too. So she can make decisions about our hero based on what she sees.
Wouldn’t you love to have that power? Then again, I’m not so sure I would.
True confession time: before I got married, I consulted a psychic. Who told me exactly zilch. I still married my husband, and nearly fifteen years later, am glad I did. But what if that psychic had actually been able to tell me about my future? I can imagine the conversation would go something like this:
PSYCHIC: You will have three children.
ME (Heretofore known as “Stubborn and Stupid”): But I only want two.
P: Well, you’re gonna have three. Boys.
SS: But I want a daughter!
P: Tough tomatoes, toots. You’re having three boys.
SS: Okay, okay. If I have to. Boys are all right. Just as long as their healthy.
P: Um…well, there’s a problem with that.
SS: What do you mean? I am going to have healthy, well-behaved, above-average kids.
P: Well, for the most part, yeah. But your oldest will have autism.
SS: But I don’t know anything about autism!
P: You’ll learn. Fast. And your middle son, he’ll have an emergency apendectomy when he’s six. There will be complications. You’ll almost lose him.
SS: But he’s okay, right?
P: Yes. But it will be touch and go. He’s bright, too, so when he’s a toddler, he’ll try to light the house on fire with the fish tank heater.
SS: He doesn’t sound like much fun. But the third one. He’s okay, right?
P: Well, he’ll have colic as a baby, and later you’ll find out he has a tumor in his brain. Not cancer, mind you, but you won’t know that for a few months.
SS: Man! I’m not sure I want to do this!
And knowing all that going in, I might not have. And if she’d told that 22-year-old me that all men are just big babies and basically dorks, I just don’t think that ring would have gone on my finger so easily.
But as I said, 15 years later, I’m glad I did it. We’ve been through a lot, from seizure disorders to tongue-tie surgeries to IQ testing. But it’s been worth it.
My oldest will be 14 next month, and is just a hoot. Yes, he has autism, but really loves as purly as anyone can. He does Special Olympics and really does well in school.
The second son was a pure pain as a toddler. No child safety lock could keep him out of anything! But he’s an amazingly bright kid who – except with his little brother – has a wonderful temperament and is fun to hang around with and talk to.
The third boy is my buddy, and is glued to my side most of the time. He’s a smart kid who does well in school, is very responsible, and a great help.
So if that psychic had told me what lay ahead, I might have missed all the stuff that made me tempted to buy stock in Clairol. But I would also have missed my Mother’s Day hugs and cards, and the boy who told me he loves me just because. So it turns out a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.
Aren’t you glad we’re blissfully ignorant?
Oh, and the husband? Yeah – guys are still dorks. Sorry, ladies. We knew that going in.