So what do you do after a day like Monday? You put it out there, such a tragic event, and then just coming back to the ol’ blog with my usual upbeat self seems strange. But that’s how life is sometimes. It knocks you flat and you get up and just keep swimming, just keep swimming.
Monday actually turned out quite badly, but for reasons totally unrelated to Becca. Let’s blame it on Boo, shall we? He’s reached a stage where he churns out his school work quickly in order to be done and free for the day. Let’s just say it’s not his best work. I really don’t think he cares. I’m whipping out Lecture 15: I Just Don’t Know What To Do With You Anymore and he’s got this totally zoned out look on his face. Um, excuse me? You may NOT look at me like that until you are at least 12.
And all of a sudden I have great empathy for my dad. Because if that’s the way I looked at him during his lectures, then good grief, it’s a wonder he didn’t haul off and pop me one. What he did instead will live in legend forever.
After getting good and fed up with my teenage self, my dad would start in on Lecture 3a: Heed Me Now or Be Grounded Later. I, caring about as much as Boo cares about his handwriting, would have totally tuned him out and was pondering greater things like which shoes to wear the next morning and when the next Duran Duran video might be on MV3. No, not really. I was actually listening in case he called a pop quiz and wanted me to tell him what he just said. But I’m pretty sure I looked like I was zoning out because out of the blue my dad would turn away from me and yell, “HELLO, WALL!” and would go marching off.
I was smart and kept my mouth closed, but inside I was thinking – what? What’s that all about? I really think he’s losing it this time. Oh well, I guess I can go.
And I’d retreat to my room to listen to Duran Duran albums. I’m talking actually record albums here, of course, this being the early ’80s in all its big-hair glory.
Another lecture I got often was something about Living the Life of Riley. My dad lost me as soon as this one started. First off, who is Riley? And why am I living his life? I didn’t think he was a teenage girl growing up in Southern California, but you never know. This was back before Al Gore invented the Internet, so to find out about who this Riley person was would have required actual effort on my part. And you have to give me huge credit for not asking my dad who Riley was.
Of course, pondering Riley and his life while my dad was talking would have caused my eyes to glaze over, prompting my dad to give up and go talk to the walls again.
So here I am all these years later with a girl who is a Mini Me in almost every way and a boy who at almost 10 years old is causing me to wonder if I’m talking to the walls. I looked up Life of Riley, too. If that boy isn’t living it, I don’t know who is! Speaking of which, it’s high time I started school and another round of lectures.
Pray for me, I’m going in!