I try to be an upbeat, annoying optimist most of the time. In fact, a client actually called me “Positive Polly” last week (a genius name for a line of overly bubbly doll figures – they could fart bubbles and laugh when you pulled their string). But sometimes, every now and then, the Eyore in my life comes to cloud me up with negativity. That Eyore is my mother. Kind of. But then again – maybe darker – like Eyore’s shadow on a cloudy day (yes, I know that’s kind of impossible). She can be a brilliant, funny person, but oh can she also be about as easy to swallow as a razor blade. If she ever reads this, I’ll probably have a hit out on me, but I have to vent, and this is my venting platform now and then. I just want to mention, there is a dash of humor in here though, and I do need to write an entire post about the underwear incident because it was so funny I had a side-ache. I might have to delete this soon, but in maintaining my own mental health, I must expunge it!
I like it when people tell me I’m a terrible parent and they’ve spent a total maybe 3 weeks with me in the past eight years of my being a parent. (by the way, that is called sarcasm)
And that person hasn’t parented me since I was 14.
And that person can’t seem to figure out that even though I make fun of myself (a lot), I am doing a far better job than I experienced as a child. Isn’t that what having a kid is about? Improving on the job our parents did with us? I mean, that and being reminded just how funny infantile humor is? I mean, farts are funny.
They are always funny.
Even if you are dying – drop a bomb and I guarantee someone will laugh. Maybe even you! Sometimes, without kids around to remind us, we stop seeing the humor in every day. A bird poops on your shoulder? C’mon, that’s funny. Your husband farts so hard on vacation that he has to ditch his undies in a public bathroom somewhere in La Jolla? That’s INCREDIBLY funny.
And, if you can’t see the humor in life, then get your ass near some children (well, not your ass per se. That’s just inappropriate. Put some pants on already, you damn fool!) and see what the hell they think is so funny! It’s usually physical comedy.
And once you find that place of many giggles, you might want to stay there a while, because the other extreme is apparently my mother. The bird pooping on her shoulder would just be another example of Obamacare. Somehow she’d blame Obama for the underwear, as well. And, unless you are going to admit you are the one who created the crap hole that is your life, you might not want to go there. It is a lonely place. It is a depressed, mentally ill world where people are mostly bad and their intentions are mainly evil based.
Or you can fart. And find it funny. And fucking enjoy your ability to smile and be silly! Go! Do it! Drop a bomb (a nonviolent stinker, I mean) and live a little.
Just try not to poop yourself. It’s a waste of perfectly good underwear.