Not So Serious, After All

For some reason, I was under the impression that I was meant to be some dark artist holed up in cafes and all-night-bring-your-own-bottle-basement-jazz joints, dreaming of Dean Moriarty and living in opioid peace.  Instead I exist as a comedy skit.

For one thing, I drive around with a coccyx on my dashboard.

Dear M,

I have your tailbone, I know you have been wondering where it was.  It fell out of the pelvis when I let little man E play with it in the car and he kept asking me, “Yes, but what KIND of ANIMAL is is from?”  Try as I might, he didn’t really get it that humans are animals.  I guess this is not surprising, since most adults don’t get it either.  Anyway, sorry I forgot to give it to you when I returned the knitted placenta, amniotic sac, baby doll and pelvis.  By the way, the ladies at the health fair thought the “unbiblical” cord was really cool.

-j

This same M, who, thankfully, is nearly as addled as I am, was witness to my third child’s first steps.  In the psychiatrist’s waiting room.  It’s quite appropriate that this is where it should happen, as everything else about this child is normal and easy.  In fact, this often causes me to wonder if he might be, um, like – “slow” in some way, because how else would any child of mine smile so much?  I’m not exactly All Happy, All the Time. Anyway, M met me at my Psych office so I could plead my case for the kind of sleeping pill that doesn’t make you continue to sleep the entire next day, while still counteracting the antidepressants that make you stay up the entire next night.  While we sat there waiting forty minutes for my fifteen minute appointment, baby B decided he would take a couple of steps towards me.

Dear Baby B,

I always tell my friends that they will most assuredly mess up their children.  The trick is to give them interesting stories to tell their therapists when they are older.  I’m sorry your first steps were in my shrink’s waiting room, but think of the delicious irony when you share that with yours!

-Your Mama, number one fan of your gorgeous smile

Right now, I am visiting my own mother, who gave me plenty of good stories to tell,  and who is providing fodder as I write this. I can hardly wait to share.

To be continued…

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3 Responses to “Not So Serious, After All”

  1. I was GOING to say that you are way more addled than me. But then I sent that Ben Bernake UTube video to Joe and told him how hilarious I thought it was, and he graciously reminded me that I am…seriously whacked. So forget it.

    However. Confessing that you let E play with my bones does NOT increase your chances of a repeat loan. Sorry. No points for honesty there.

  2. […] like to quip to my friends that we all mess up our children. The trick is to give them good stories to tell their […]

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