Will I always be this silly?

As I was jumping around the other day, saying to the kids, "It's my brother, Mike who's getting married in July... not daddy's brother, Mike," a thought creeped into the back of my mind.

Will I be this silly when I'm 80 years old?

I sure hope so. I may not be jumping up and down at 80 years of age, for fear of breaking a hip, but I want to preserve this childish behavior.

Yeah, I'm pretty nutty around the house. I joke a lot... like telling Miles that "shoot" (the alternative word for shit) is worse than the "F" word. Of course, I back tracked and told him that it wasn't a bad word at all. But I didn't back track because it was the right thing to do. Nope. I was afraid I'd get caught misguiding my son. I don't need Miles using the "F" word at school because he thinks it's not as bad as the teacher (or Joe) says.

But I am a little on the insane side of things, especially when it comes to parenting. Sure, the kids drive me batty but I have to wonder if it's me that has instigated their actions. Like Miles smearing poo all over the bathroom and apartment when we were trying to potty train him. I can't help but think that it was my fault in some way. Where did the smearing poo come from? Did he think is was chocolate frosting for a cake? I bake cakes. I frost cakes with chocolate icing. Damn it! It's all my fault!

I wonder about my own grandmothers. Were they silly? I'm guessing they weren't. They both fit the perfect image of what a grandmother looks and acts like -- sweet, slow-moving, and a home with a candy dish that is always full. I can't see myself acting like a typical old grandmother when I'm old. I still have 45 years before I'm 80, so perhaps I need to tone down the silliness and start acting like an adult. I have to start practicing sometime. Maybe I need acting classes... not to be in a play but to get prepared for being an adult.

But wait. I like being the odd-ball around the house. The kids expect their mother to be a little off-kilter at times. They rarely take me seriously, except when they know I'm "mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore." Then they get quiet and start blaming each other. Should I be worried that they easily give each other up, rather than stand together in solidarity? Maybe we need to watch more mobster movies to illustrate what happens when you rat people out, especially your family members. Or maybe I'm just that good of an interrogator. If that's the case, I need a job in law enforcement rather than focusing on the food system and dietetics.

At any rate, I plan to stay silly. So, yes, I will continue to slide across the kitchen floor on my way to the refrigerator and I will jump up and down in mocked joy over mundane things, like when Joe goes out to get the mail and comes back in with nothing but bills. Getting excited over getting our gas bill, even if it is fake excitement, makes paying that bill much easier to do.

Life is too short to act like an adult all the time.



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