Yes, I’ve been a lame blogista the past few weeks. Sometimes life gets in the way. Held a tamalada (tamale-making party) a few weeks ago (causing me to be more intimate with pig than I’ve ever been before: I’m here to tell you you really don’t want to eat tamales more than one or twice a year); then Elder Girleen and I squandered The Husband’s last frequent flyer points with a whirlwind wonderful weekend visiting friends in The Big Apple.
So, per the New Yorker, we’ve already established that diaries are full of dross; blogs, blather. What do you call it when you simply recount your life? David Sedaris and Jerry Seinfeld discovered this long ago, but if nothing else, blogging has made me realize that riffs about nothing may be inherently more comedic than … well, life.
This may be why the Wry School of Parenthood Writing is so popular and pervasive in the blog world. The absurd is funny. The day-to-day is just … the day-to-day.
In the homestretch to Christmas, though, I’ve got nothing going on but the day-to-day.
And really, now that I think about it, what a jaded, crazy world we live in that I would breathe the words day-to-day
and trip to New York
in the same few paragraphs. And since this will float around attached to my name for eternity, let me set the record straight: we don’t actually jaunt off to Manhattan on a regular basis.
Back in the dark ages B.C. (Before Children), my mother, fretting about my advancing age and seeming diffidence about having offspring, would say Oh, but you get to experience childhood all over again! (This wasn’t her only persuasive argument by any means; she was also fond of saying but I want to be a grandmother!). At the time, because I had no experience of childhood but a child’s I was unmoved. The thing I remembered most about my childhood was my painful overwhelming shyness. No way did I want to experience that again.
The lovely, scrumptious center of the candy-coated experience that was our trip to NY was a matinee showing of Mary Poppins, not just Elder Girleen’s first experience of Broadway but mine as well. This tells you just how much the world has changed: she is five, I’m 10 days away from 43.
At the end of the performance, when the actress that plays Mary Poppins soars up and over the audience on wires, her umbrella unfurled, I glanced over at Elder Girleen. She was clapping wildly and her eyes shone like stars. In fact, veering into sentimental territory, you could practically see her soul shining out through her eyes. She was completely and utterly happy.
Oh, I realized, so that was what my mother meant. It’s not just that you get to re-experience childhood when you have children, it’s that occasionally you get to re-experience childhood within the context of your battle-hardened adult life.
And that might be the most magical thing I’ve ever experienced.