It’s time for me to write something funny, but
I don’t know how.
I’m not sad.
Not angry. Not depressed. Not any of the reasons people give
for being unfunny.
To be fair, many funny people sport some level
of depression, anyway.
My kids – former wellsprings of hilarious material
– aren’t funny to me anymore. They are
treasures I want to hold tight – much as they always were, but instead of sharing their shenanigans I want to cling
to them with the weight of my body and soul and hold them close. They also aren’t funny anymore in the way
they used to be funny. They don’t often say
things in innocence that make us smile; when they do, I experience a wave of
memories that almost knocks me out.
The innocent ramblings of children are
fleeting.
I can share that the other day I was
in a silly mood and grabbed my son from behind around the waist and asked him
to try and pull me around on the smooth kitchen tile – to work his core, I
reasoned. He pulled me around for a
short time before I lost my balance and fell down right on my butt. It's more about me being a goof than about him being funny, but it's what I've got for now.
We both laughed that silent laugh where you can’t
catch your breath. I had tears in my
eyes when I asked him if he thought it was a good workout. He shook his head at me and said “You’re crazy.”
When he’s thirty it might be weirder if we did
this together. By then we will just have to settle
for reminiscing about that time around Christmas when he was just a little
bigger than me, strong enough to be used as a pack animal, and
I asked him to pull me around and I fell down on my butt.
Perhaps then they’ll be whispering: “That was
the beginning of Mom’s downward spiral.”
We are watching Star Wars movies as a family, movies
that are certainly not meant to be funny but are funny to us in their
corniness. We call the characters “Sausage
Head” and “Snot Monster” and exclaim “Whoa!” and “YEAH!!!” at Yoda’s Jedi moves
and light saber action. We rate hairdos and costumes and the kids get
uncomfortable during the kissing scenes and roll their eyes at the love stories
and I am reminded that they are still kids.
Somewhere I lost the ability to be funny about
them.
They would be relieved if I told them
this. They never minded being written
about, and I always (usually) asked them if it would be okay to share their funniest
stories here, but it’s not my place to share the things about their lives that
they can share themselves. Other things
are private and not funny anyway.
Respect for my children has reached a whole other level.
We are separating. They are just beginning to peel off from our
family, discovering their own selves apart from the home cocoon. That’s why we had children, to raise up people to continue our legacy, to build the
world into a better place to live.
It’s a good thing – the way of life.
But it’s not funny.
*******
I agree...letting them take flight is not humorous and requires a strong co-pilot.
ReplyDeleteSome days it's agonizing. The strength required is mighty. I didn't know this going in.
DeleteNot a downward spiral! The birth of your cooking segment ;)
ReplyDeleteSometimes in between can be bittersweet, and sometimes it can be hard and beautiful all at the same time, but I guess funny isn't what it is. Hugs to you.
I keep thinking I need to cook something for the blog. I did months ago, even took pictures. I haven't been able to drum up a post about it. Hard and beautiful is taking the lead.
DeleteIT IS SO NOT FUNNY.
ReplyDeleteOh, friend. You know. xoxo
DeleteOh can I relate to this all too well. My son will graduate in May. 4 short months. My daughter just turned 15 and I noticed I have become more of a chauffeur to her as of late than the kid who rides in the front seat just to have me to herself.
ReplyDeleteNot funny at all. Great post... stopping by from Coach Daddy!