Friday, December 10, 2010
The other night, the old man and I went out to see Louis C.K. I really dig Louis, because he talks about the things we think about, perhaps fleetingly, before we run from that thought with all speed--you know, the kind of thought we WOULDN'T share publicly or even privately, because we don't want to be eviscerated, or arrested. And he just parades them out, expanding on them, glorying in them, and making you laugh because you KNOW you've thought it, at least once. And the stuff he says about his kids is HILARIOUS. Other parents might not agree, but then they love the sound of their little precious singing itsy bitsy spider 52 times (isn't that just adorable? And he can do a little dance too!). The rest of us secretly wish for a STFU button. We don't tell people that, but we do. And if you don't, well, you must be deaf. Or hopped up on something.
Anyway, I bring up Louis because one of his bits was about the fact that his kids wake him up at 6 in the morning. And as he went into this bit, I was almost getting high from the lack of oxygen I was laughing so much, because he was describing our little weasel. You know the kind of kid--when he wakes up he is UP! wide eyed, ready to take on the world, with a banana and his favorite DVD.
I was greeted with this child today at 545. AM.
Lemme splain a little back story. I am NOT that person. If I could get back to my natural state, I would stay up until 3 and sleep until noon. I used to do my best writing (when I actually thought I would write a novel one day--HAH!) in the wee hours of the morning--usually when I crawled home from the bar. I was a walking cliché--cigarette dangling, fingers typing furiously, cocktail at the ready. Its where I found my voice--that sassy, who the fuck are you attitude that seems to permeate my existence.
Now, I will say that my previous profession trained me out of the night owl routine. As a former teacher, I used to get up in the wee hours so I could a) beat the commute through LA, b) get into my classroom and have a cup, or 5, of coffee and c) get my shit together before the first surly teen would enter my room. If I didn't, they wouldn't be the only grumps in my room. I did it for them. And to keep my job. And to quash the urge to commit homicide. And because no one was using the copier that time of the morning. (score!)
So, I've been getting up early for a few years now, but when I was teaching, I'd always get the summer break to live it up and sleep off the hangover. It was a good trade, making the sacrifices worth it. SO when the boy was born, and I gave up my sanity to feed him directly from my body, I knew I would HAVE to wake up for that morning feed, and my morning training came into play. After a year he actually weaned himself from that feed, but he still got up early. And I got (GET) up with him--because that was (IS)my job.
But there is no summer vacay in sight.
And the doctor told me to stop drinking caffeine.
So, when Louis started cursing his children for being early birds, my face began to hurt from all the laughter. I wasn't wishing for a STFU button--I was wishing for a lock on his bedroom door, and a month's supply of Ambien. AND the ability to sleep through every little mousy noise he makes when he gets up. Cause I hear them all. Every cough and sniffle and verse of Mighty Machines. And unfortunately, when I wake up, I am UP. begrudgingly. Not wide eyed and bushy-tailed (have I ever been) but awake enough to know that laying back down will do no Goddamned good, so I might as well make a pot of coffee (decaf, DAMMIT) and peel someone's banana. And that isn't even close to a euphemism.
Seems the bulk of my cussing happen at this time. Go figure. And now that our little darling has finally picked up a little more echolalia/language acquisition, I can't even do THAT with any gusto anymore.
It's like the whole frickin world is trying to turn me into a morning person. KNOCK IT OFF!
Oddly enough, I saw Louis at, of all places, the fabric store a few days later. With his kids, getting something prolly for a project or the myriad other things that kids do. And I was reminded of the part of his bit that made me laugh, but was also the most poignant. The reason we think these things about our kids is that when you are being a good parent--when you are really DOING it to the best of your ability, it sucks. It's exhausting, and annoying, and nothing like your life before kids. But you have to. That's what sucks. You know deep down that you HAVE to. Doesn't matter if your kid is typical or not. Whatever it is you have to do to be a good parent, you HAVE to, because that's what makes them into awesome human beings *you hope.*
Thanks for the laugh, Louis. And the affirmation that while I may think things that I wouldn't DARE tell another person, I am doing a good job. So are you, brother. so are you.
(and let me say, if you get a chance to see Louis in concert--do so. 90 minutes of non-stop laughs--he does that job well too.)
Posted by This side of Typical at 9:12 AM