So, there’s no debating that it’s been a year so far. It’s been a YEAR. I am not the best at coping with certain situations. My anxiety and nerves all whack me square at the knees, and it will plague me for days, weeks. I can’t ever recover! I will focus on one thing, and it will gnaw me from the inside out, and I can’t shake it. That leaves me with the thing that I know best. Sometimes you can’t help but to just laugh. But, most of the time, you NEED to laugh your ever loving arse off.
I laugh a lot with my husband and my friends, and even at people who don’t even know they’re being laughed at. More importantly, my kids are hella funny. My 10 year old twins are such a perfect mix of innocent and inappropriate all at the same time. If I am ever talking to someone and my daughter can tell my fake tone of voice from my real genuine tone of voice, when that person exits the conversation, I know I’m going to get a look. The kind of look where you and your kid just get each other, and then you both laugh.
The other day I was driving the twins to school. My son and daughter start randomly talking about running out of toilet paper in a bathroom stall, and how crappy that would be (pun at first unintended, then intended). My son says that it would be cool, that he just wouldn’t wipe. (OMG). My daughter tells him that if she ever ran out of toilet paper in a bathroom stall, she would just stick her hand under the stall next to hers to get more, but you have to be very careful so that you don’t grab someone’s butt hole. I can’t even…it’s like where did I go wrong? I don’t go around talking about people’s butt holes. And it certainly wouldn’t be something that I was worried about grabbing. Ever. But, when I get past the horror and the questioning of my life choices and parenting style, I just can’t help but to be so proud of the level of sarcasm. It’s already at such a high caliber at such a young, ripe age. So, we can only go up from here. As long as you don’t grab someone’s….
Me and my oldest daughter were driving in the car this weekend. I guess her mind was wandering to the movie previews where this one preview comes on that we’ve seen a million times – all the friends and people are coming to see a movie, and the gist of the message is “We are all the same when the lights are out.” (One hell of a message, ya hear). I can’t tell you how many times I have seen this preview, got a warm and fuzzy feeling at the very end, but the one phrase that always stood out: “I like robots.” Said by an older, female actress ‘movie-goer’.
So, suddenly there in the car, as her mind was wandering, my daughter blurts out: “I like robots.” In a very robotic tone. So then, just as I tend to do, I sort of purposefully, yet unintentionally took things in a different direction. “Hey, honey – what if every answer was ‘I like robots,’ and she couldn’t say anything else?” So then we started to work the crowd. The crowd that consisted only ofourselves, and one of us was a full ass grown adult, acting like a damn 8 year old.
“Grandma, did you remember your teeth today?”
“I like robots.”
“Grandma, where did you meet Grandpa?”
“I like robots.”
“Grandma, who is your favorite grand child?”
“I like robots.”
My daughter decides that she is starving and needs to go through a fast food drive through. We keep on with the jokes. Because we’re the same maturity level.
“Grandma,would you prefer the chicken or the fish?”
“I like robots.”
We pull around to the last drive through attendant, and by that time, I was full on laugh heaving.
“Um, that will be $12.63.” And I couldn’t compose myself. Then my daughter starts snorting and squealing, because of the way that the lady pronounced my name, meanwhile I’m totally visualizing me telling her how I like robots, and then there came a moment where I was slightly mortified, hoping the attendant didn’t think I was laughing at her. So I felt the need to explain. “Sorry, we…robots…so…funny.” I was in the bell jar. I was on the verge of hyperventilating, knowing that I couldn’t mature or adult at the moment, or any time in the future. It is literally the stupidest thing on the planet to find funny, but the absurdity, and my daughter’s robot voice, and the need to have a belly laugh from deep down in creviceville was an absolute necessity, so we laughed until we hemorrhaged. About robots.
There are so many other proud moments. Most people are proud of academic achievements, perfect attendance, a sports trophy, or getting a good part in a play. What am I proud of? That my kid can sit in the stands or turf with me at their siblings’ practice while we make up silly words or make sarcastic comments about crazy stage moms, or insane overreactors to the referee’s call. Me: “Wow. That was understated.” My kid(s): “I can’t even tell if their voice box even works.”
That is the sweet stuff for me. Sarcasm and laughter can answer any problem, question, quandary, or worry that you find yourself with. Anytime I start to stress, or my mind starts to wander to the dark side, I remember my youngest daughter’s comment yesterday morning in the car when she called a boys’ private parts a “dangly thang,” and then she yells at her brother for purposely creating a fart cloud.” Now THAT, those are the talents and gifts that I cherish more than a silly good grade. Or a crazy spelling bee win. How far will those kids ever go with those trophies? I choose to bet on my kids’ strong and quick wit for a huge win in life. I choose laughter. (Obviously also choose to be a stupid ass knuklehead)
I will leave you with this poem from my very poetic, sweet, special child.