I’m not over the horrors of Newtown. I know none of us are. But I want to get back to the funny. To the mommy fodder that I need to get out on this blog. Like the fact that both my kids love Rihanna’s song Diamonds, but how my daughter takes that love to another level. While having her diaper changed Chloe loves to put the soles of her feet together in the air making a diamond shape with her legs. This is usually my cue to start singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Although in the past few days she’s demanded a mash-up that goes like this: Twinkle twinkle little star, up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky / shine bright like a diamond, shine bright like a diamond, we’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky. Rihanna would be proud.
Or the fact that Chloe has new boots and she is obsessed. She shows them to every single person who walks into the elevator. Except when her little 21-month old mouth says “boots” it sounds like “beach.” More than one person has asked me if she is excited about going on vacation. “No, she’s saying ‘boots’,” I explain. But today it got worse. “Beach” takes on a new context when she adds her new favorite activity in her boots — jumping. That word sounds awfully like “shtump-end” which between you and me translates to stupid. So we’re on our way to school today and she’s screaming at the top of her lungs “STUPID BITCH!” as she does her little baby bunny hop along the sidewalk. Oh lordy, I hope this phase passes quickly.
These moments are adorable and sweet and hilarious to me as I am in the moment with my babies. But when I sit down to write, I come back to the sadness. I’m trying to find the funny again, to share my mommy stories without feeling disrespectful to those precious lives lost. I try to convince myself that it’s ok to laugh and move on with our lives so long as we don’t lose the motivation to make changes. So in between dances with my babies I take the time to sign petitions to ban semi-automatic weapons. I wrote a piece for Mommyish on getting rid of toy guns, since you know what? Those aren’t protected by the 2nd amendment. I listen to discussions about mental illness and how we are getting it wrong, the ways we are getting it right, and the ways we need to help.
And I’ll try to make you smile again. I’m not there yet. I know you’re not either. Baby steps.