Thursday, September 8, 2011

Really, what IS normal?

The "button" has told me repeatedly that he cannot wait to be "normal."  I just said to Franklin that "I too, want to be normal". 

But really, what is normal?

When I was growing up we were "normal".  Mom stayed at home.  Dad worked.  Sheet day was Monday and my mom didn't cook on Friday.  On Sunday morning we watched cartoons. If we made it to Hercules  then we were not going to church.  If mom came downstairs in her nightgown and slid a pork roast in the oven, we were going to church.   We came home, ate pork and sauerkraut, watched the Steelers, washed our hair in the sink, ate leftovers and the week began. 

We were normal too, I thought.  Sheet day here is Thursday.  I don't cook on Fridays.  I always have Sunday dinner.  So much of my childhood is repeated here, including the Christmas gifts are purchased by Halloween and wrapped by Thanksgiving and dusted on Christmas Eve.   Then things changed.  Me not working changed the routine here and things began to feel "a little off".  Then, there was the "button."

I want to get back to feeling normal. I want a routine.   I want a  nine to five job with benefits.  Love my bitches, bleach and bras but I want to be "normal" again..  You know, the kind where you get up, worry about what you are going to wear, dart out the door, worry about what you are going to fix for dinner, how you are going to get kid A to point "b" will kid B needs to get to point "a", get homework done, do laundry, help with homework, chat with husband, do dinner, clean up dinner, read a little and go to sleep and start all over again.  Yeah, I know.  Crazy.

The "button" says, "I just want to be normal".  Hmm, he has a two parent household, home, car...the normal stuff.  Normal didn't work for him.  Now normal will most likely be probation, junior college and we go from there.  Honestly, this is fine.  And, close to normal as normal can be. 

Normal is really over rated I think.  After I grew up and after  years of Monday sheet day, my parents divorced.  My mom married a man younger than my first husband, who was the same age as my mom.  My dad married a girl younger than my younger brother.  My younger brother married a girl older than me.  And, we thought we were "normal". 


Carry on, "normal" folks.

No comments:

Post a Comment