Weird like me

"Aaah, so you're Lego. I've heard a lot about you," said the father of one of my oldest son's classmates. We were standing in line to meet the 7th grade teachers at the middle school Open House, now optimistically called a "Showcase" in order to lull parents into thinking it's some kind of spectacular entertainment. Instead, it was the same old adolescent fare of self-conscious drama skits, song sung without clearly enunciated words, bands playing slightly off-key, and orchestras squeaking their strings.

LegoGuy's friend giggled, hiding her braces with a raised hand. My son just grinned. Lord knows what kind of things this girl had said to her family. I just hoped my kid wasn't cornering her in the hallway and popping her in the back with the clasp of her bra strap. That was one way the boys entertained themselves when I was a teen.

It was interesting to watch him interact with his peers. He seemed confident, at ease with everyone around him. They noticed him, gave him a "'Whassup?" or a slap on the back or murmured his name in passing. He looked normal, like he fit in, like he didn't have a weird gene in his body.

Maybe he gets all his weird quirks out at home. Some of the things he does lately just set my teeth on edge. His latest oddity is crawling into unexpected places and staying there, motionless, until one of us comes upon him unaware. Then he scares the bejeezus out of us. He doesn't say a word, doesn't jump out or scream. It's just that he's somewhere he shouldn't be, as still as a statue, and it's freaky.

It's no secret I had my weird moments growing up. I'm sure my parents noticed me doing all kinds of strange things, but here's what comes to mind:

1. The bizarre laugh: In 6th grade, I decided my laugh was completely unremarkable. Therefore, I had to come up with a new laugh. I experimented for awhile, then settled on a bizarre laugh that seemed to go on forever. In order to stretch it out, I'd inhale as deeply as I could, then exhale and laugh at the same time. It was exhausting, and eventually I gave it up. I'm sure my parents were thrilled.

2. The rapid clap: It was around this time that I experienced a huge surge of energy, and the only way I could get rid of it was by clapping rapidly for at least 3-5 minutes at a time, until my hands were stinging and sore. I remember my Dad glaring at me, patience completely gone. "Take it outside!" Still clapping, I obeyed.

3. The face stretch: We were a church-goin' family, parked on the hard pews every Sunday, Sunday night, Wednesday night missionary meetings, revivals, Bible studies, etc. I'd grasp at every straw to get me through the service. I probably studied the photos in my mother's wallet a hundred thousand times. (Had my parents really been that young? Who knew?) Then I discovered the odd pleasure of stretching my face. Bowing my head as if to pray, I'd used the palms of my hands to stretch my cheeks as far as I could stand before it got too painful. Then, release and recover. Repeat as often as necessary until the final sinner had prayed through at the altar. It's a wonder my jowls don't brush the concrete when I walk.

I'm sure there were many more. And it didn't end with adolescence. I've currently got enough weird ways to drive my husband crazy, what with my subhuman light sleep habits, my aversion to squeaky markers and my insistence on conversing in baby talk with my dog. Today, Gypsy and Minx made fun of my love for the phrase Moist Towelette* which would be -- I still believe -- a great name for a girl band.

I'm weird, and I'm proud.

*Hey, at least I'm not weird enough to collect these things.