As I’ve mentioned in this space before, my wife and I have five children. People occasionally (read: all the time) give us the fake “wow, that’s incredible” (read: what are you, insane?) expression when told this.
Sometimes, for kicks, I want to look them dead in the eyes, and as emotionless as possible want to say, “Yes, we are insane.”
And then just turn and walk away, smiling in a way they can’t see, leaving them wondering if I’m kidding our not.
The truth is, we all make our own normal. And there are days when I’m not sure if we’re insane or not, too.
We’re not perfect, and we do not always resemble our Christmas card collage of happy, smiling faces in a warm autumn sunshine. Some days I feel like Michael Keaton’s Bruce Wayne talking to Jack Nicholson’s Joker when dealing with our children:
“You wanna get nuts? [Smashes vase] C’mon! Let’s get nuts!”
But the Mrs. and I wanted this, even when a simple cold or flu bug can ravage our house like a plague out of the 1300s.
Take for instance just last week, when my wife had to work one evening and was not home, leaving dear old Dad (me) to put a quarantine order in effect that would have made JFKs during the Cuban Missile Crisis look like a polite suggestion.
You see, I disaffectionately (thesaurus says that’s not a word, I disagree) refer to this time of year as “Bowl Season” – and it isn’t because of the college football postseason games. No, it is bowl season because children must carry a bowl with them in case there is a rumbly in the tummy.
Here is a scene from our latest episode of Bowl Season:
Me: “No one is allowed in the family room! Prisoners — I mean, those sick — are to stay in their designated, already infected areas of habitation until the ban has been lifted.
6-year-old (we’ll call him Brooks, since that’s his name): Daddy, I don’t know what any of that means!
Me: Not you buddy, you’re fine.
2-year-old attached to my hip (we’ll call her The Dominator, a not-so-gentle play on words for her given birth name of Dominique): [inaudible, yet stern sounds, mimicking me, pointing at her infected brethren].
(In this scene, she plays my ferocious No. 2 in command.)
9-year-old (Dryden) from the top of the stairs: Dad, I feel better, my stomach doesn’t hurt, can I come down?
Me: No! You must rest and keep this to yourself!
11-year-old from her room down the hall (Brielle): I feel better too, can I come out?
The Dominator: [inaudible, stern sounds and more pointing, this time towards Brielle.]
Me: Brielle, listen to your sister, she said to stay in there!
We transition to roughly 30 minutes later, as Dad, Brooks, Dominator and Cole – 15-year-old high school sophomore – are cleaning up dinner. Brielle has snuck into the living room, sunk down into the couch and covered herself with blankets as to not be detected.
Dryden (again for the top of the stairs): Dad, can I please come down, I feel fine!
Me, softening after a glass of wine: Ok, but please get a bowl in case your stomach hurts and you can’t make it to the bathroom.
(WARNING: foreshadowing alert)
Brooks: Daddy, do I need a bowl?
Me: No buddy, you’re not sick.
Not five minutes later…the sound of feet hitting the floor hard, running, a short period of silence…then…horrifying sounds from the hallway of you already know what hitting the floor.
Everyone freezes. The only sound is that of the running water from the kitchen faucet, where dishes were being washed. No one blinks, but eyes slowly shift to Dad. Brielle, quickly moves toward her bedroom, sensing the coming storm. Dad slowly steps toward the site of the damage, looks around the corner and his deepest fears are confirmed. Dryden has thrown-up all over the floor.
Me (sounding like the Dad in A Christmas Story when the fuse blows): Don’t ANY-BODY move! Stay away! Dryden, why didn’t you get to the bathroom?
Dryden: I couldn’t make it!
Me: But you stopped running!
Dryden: I couldn’t run anymore, my stomach wouldn’t let me!
Me (ignoring the fuzzy body physics from a 9-year-old): Well, where is your bowl?
Dryden: I didn’t get it!
Me: WHY!?!?!?!
Dryden: Because I felt fine! I’m sorry!
Me: I don’t care that your sick – that came out wrong – I care that you are sick, but I can take care of you better if you keep it IN A BOWL AND OFF THE FLOOR! BACK TO YOUR ROOM AND GET A BOWL!
Dryden shuffles off, finally takes a bowl, and fires off a final shot from the top of the stairs:
I feel better now!
Me: Not a chance, to your cell – I mean, room!
Brooks: Daddy, I have a bowl.
Me: Brooks, dude, you don’t need a bowl.
Brooks: But I wanted to be ready in case I get it too!
Cole: He’s sucking up to you!
Me: Well, then he’s learned quicker than you did.
Cole: [laughing] That smells terrible.
Me: You either clean it up, or you take your sister so I can.
Dominator: [standing on top of the kitchen island, looks at Cole, laughs and smiles] I poop!
Cole: [seriously seeming to contemplate which is more difficult] I’ll take Dom.
–Cut to a Mr. Clean commercial, because I’m all about well-placed ads.
I spent the next 10 minutes cleaning up the toxic wasteland, with a self-made hazmat suit, gloves and a scarf I fashioned into a breathing mask. For a moment, I envisioned myself as a warrior, ready to do battle, looking something like this:
I then spent the next 45 minutes mopping the entire hardwood floor and wiping things off like a hospital room.
When my wife came home, she asked how the evening went.
I simply, methodically recounted the events of the evening like a court transcriptionist. I might have been on a second glass of wine at that point. She laughed.
Because what else can you do but laugh? We so often forget what it was like to be kids. As adults, I’m trying to figure out how to not take it so seriously. I fail often.
But I try. And really, that’s the ultimate lesson to our kids. Just try. Just keep going. And laugh a little at yourself. There just is not enough of that – trying and laughing – left in the world right now.
And maybe, that is of one of the reasons we had so many kids.
And maybe, that makes us a little insane compared to everybody else.
And maybe we don’t want to be like everybody else.
Because where is the fun in that?