The Trampoline and What Else?

Well, here it is, nearly midnight on a Friday and I'm not a bit sleepy. So I guess I'll write one of these here Internet Blurbs.

Lately I've been thinking about just what it is I'm supposed to be doing. You know--with myself. The interesting thing is that I'm perfectly content with things as they are: I like the things I do every day, the people I know, the place I live. But the other day I was jumping on a friend's trampoline and I realized, "Huh. I'm not 12 years old. That's weird."

When I was a little kid, we had this trampoline that my dad made out of some iron pipes and a bouncy mat he got some lady to sew to fit it. It was such a great trampoline, and Allison and I spent years of our lives jumping on it. We could do flips--frontward and backward--and we made up a game called Crack the Egg, wherein you make yourself a little tiny ball and the other person tries to bounce you so hard you come out of your ball, thus cracking the egg. I spent a lot of time on that trampoline, and I never broke any bones (or even my neck). Which is, of course, incredible.

So, the other day I was bouncing, and it dawned on me that I didn't land on my feet after I did a flip like I did when I was a kid. Now, I don't think there's anything wrong or particularly surprising about this--it just made me start thinking. This is what I thought:

First, I need to remember to get Odessa a trampoline for her 5th birthday. I honestly think this is a good idea.

Secondly, I spent about 27 years of my life convinced that It (aka, my REAL life) was all going to start just as soon as I had a baby. Now, I realize this might sound completely insane to you, but that's just what I believed. Some people think that a Job or a Romance or an Accomplishment is going to make them...well, Them. I just happened to believe it was going to be a baby that was going to turn me into Me. As a result, I have literally made note of every single baby that has ever been in a room with me since I was four years old. My mom thought I'd be a teenaged mother and sent me to Planned Parenthood the day she first discovered I had a boyfriend. And many years later, imagine my surprise when I actually gave birth to the baby I always wanted. And while she is soft and cuddly and charming and teaches me one true thing about life every single day, she doesn't actually replace anything or give anything meaning it didn't have before. This, though mildly surprising, is sort of a relief. I'm meant to do something else with my time here in the world apart from giving birth to and raising someone? Awesome!

Which brings me to the third thing the trampoline made me think:

I have an entire life ahead of me--maybe tens, hundreds, thousands of days to fill with things. But what things? I'll snuggle my little girl, certainly. I'll eat popsicles and try to make my husband laugh and learn not to be so scared of riding a bike, and maybe I'll travel someplace beautiful, and maybe I'll write a book. But what else?

I guess I could get really good at backflips on the trampoline again. Any other suggestions?

Chaos

9:10 PM: I can't find my keys.

The maid was here today and everything. Obviously.

Aside: Interesting thing that I can't prove because I heard it from a real live person, and Sir Google cannot verify:

There are two types of patent applications the U.S. patent office will categorically discard upon receipt:

1. Applications to patent perpetual motion machines.

2. Applications to patent things that will help you find your keys.

But how come? I mean, how awesome would it be if you could call your keys like you can call your cell phone?

Darn you, U.S. Patent Office!

Update!! 11:10 PM

Keys FOUND!

Special Bonus Find: LIVING ROOM!

Hard Times

Life has been tough for my little Poodle Pop the past couple of weeks:

1. I went away and left her breast-milk-less for a week, and have been very withholding since I got back. She is pissed and doesn't understand why her private property, to which she has a God-given right to protect with force (if necessary), is being confiscated and used for what? Nothing! My boobs are basically just like the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. If she grows up Libertarian, I have no one but myself to blame.

2. She is growing some monster chompers.

3. She has super runny and stinky poops. I blame the monster chompers for that one.

4. While I was gone, there was a house guest situation which I suspect was the origin of a pandemic so destructive that it resulted in every single person I know nearly dying, as Virginia says (Bryan had to go to Urgent Care, and he never gets sick). Now Odessa not only has some new monster chompers and runny poops, but also the wheezy sniffles.

5. She started school yesterday. I know, I know--she's only 17 months old, so how could she be old enough for school? Well, Bryan is literally... okay, scratch that. Bryan is figuratively never going to graduate from college if he keeps taking care of Odessa instead of working on his school crap. SO, Odessa is going to a little Montessori school down the street from our house. And even though she went to daycare this spring (that was all day, every day), and this is only half a day, three days a week, I kind of cried a little in my kerchief after I dropped her off.

Because, ya'll, she's the littlest kid in her whole class and all the other kids were running and talking in complete sentences and basically spazzing out (I heard the 90's were back), and she just stood there in the middle of the room with this look on her face that bespoke, "Holy Shit." And that girl has admittedly had a tough couple of weeks, and it's incredible that she's still so sweet and trusting, and that she can still laugh at my elephant impersonation after all this weening and teething and pooping and force-feeding, not to mention the abandonment. Oh! The abandonment!

But like my dad says, "Life ain't no ride on no pink duck." And if it were, that would be kind of weird.

The August Offensive

This is sad.

Have you noticed what an attentive girlfriend I was to you in the month of July? I basically massaged your shoulders and cooked you romantic candlelit dinners that involved more than 3 ingredients. I asked you to explain the difference between a rebound and an assist, and as you spoke, I gazed earnestly into your eyes, nodding and murmuring with dawning comprehension as you discussed LeBron James' offensive strategy.

And then August came, and I went off to Louisville with my girlfriends and ended up kind of making out with a bartender named Bruce which didn't really count because I was drunk, etc, but I understand why you're mad because of the principle of the thing.

Anyway, sweet reader, we will work this out--we will again experience a Renaissance of Our Love. But in the meantime, work with me. Let me catch you up.

So, in August, here's what's been going down:

1. I went to Door County, Wisconsin to the wedding of my friends Kiki and Matt. Seriously, that place is unnaturally beautiful, plus I got to spend a lot of time with a bunch of friends I don't ever get to see. I drove up there (17 HOURS, ya'll!) with my friends Alex and Generameeks Queeks, and that was pretty much the best because we sang along with Bob Dylan albums and made up top 3 lists of crap we didn't know anything about (example: Top 3 Badasses of All Time: 1. Nikola Tesla 2. Marie Curie 3. The Honey Badger).

2. I weened Odessa off the boob while I was in Wisconsin. I know I said I was trying to do this 3 months ago, but I just got around to it. And woo-boy, is she pissed.

3. So, Bryan is in Mississippi doing stuff to defenseless little birds and I am working all day, so my dad and Janice are looking after Odessa. Only, here's the thing: Odessa is insane with teething rage. She's been refusing all sustenance and basically acting like a Honey Badger on PCP. And Dad and Janice are taking it with complete equanimity. Janice is a total Baby Wrangler--she's like Mary Poppins, and I'm not talking about the Disney Mary Poppins, but the one in the books who doesn't stand for any nonsense. I got a text message from her this morning that said something like "I have cornered and subdued the Barbarian. It is currently gnawing the flesh off the femur of her fallen adversary."

4. So, last night I had a whole bunch of free time on my hands since Bryan was gone and Odessa was acting like a total Balrog on someone else's watch. And so I went OUT TO DINNER WITH SOME FRIENDS AND THEN WENT TO A BAR! WHERE PEOPLE DRINK ALCOHOL! And because I'm a wet blanket prohibitionist teetotaler, I just drank bubble water, but listen to this: I talked to people and laughed at stuff. Oh, it was sweet.

And then, if that wasn't enough, I came home, went to bed at midnight and this morning, woke up at EIGHT FREAKIN' O'CLOCK and just lay there staring at the ceiling until about 8:50, when I got up and went to work. It was miraculous. But you know what? I still missed my family, even though one of them is a savage beast.

PS. I know my mom is going to worry that I actually made out with a bartender named Bruce in Louisville. I did not.