Tag Archives: Humor

Children, Literacy, Weekend Write-Off, Writing

An Unexpected Beaver

A dancing dragon and a firefly met on a moonlit night.  They began to talk and play when suddenly out popped a beaver.  They jumped, then laughed and laughed.  Their unexpected visitor added fun and excitement to their meeting.images

 

The above scene transpired in the puppet theatre at the library yesterday.  My three year-old, in the guise of the beaver, taught me an important lesson about humor in story.

While the dancing dragon and firefly were compelling enough in their budding friendship and moonlight dance, the beaver’s unexpected entrance added another layer of depth that hadn’t been there.

Even the dragon and firefly, as played by her sisters, laughed – not just me in the audience.

It is the unexpected or turning of conventions on their heads that makes the best humor.  It also makes for fresh, unpredictable plots.

Novel, indeed.

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Children, Humor, motherhood, parenting

Yoga with Kids

By adhering to the following prerequisites, you too can have a complete yogic experience with your children.

 

image from NPR

image from NPR

  • Start by choosing your mat.  When your children see you roll out yours, they will immediately clamor for one of the remaining mats (tip: be sure to have only one of each color and one less than the number of children).
  • Place yours in an open area, free from obstacles and other people.  Your children will fill in the void.
  • Set your yoga strap at your side, easily accessible during your practice.  Your children will be able to grasp it easily as well to whip each other.
  • Don’t forget yoga blocks – in case you need extra support during a stretch.  Or a teething ring or projectile.
  • Clear your mind.  Your children will ping around like ping-pong balls no matter what venomous thoughts you entertain.
  • Lie in repose.  Ignore that fact that a toddler’s thick skull could sucker punch you in the gut at any moment.
  • Oh, and be sure to slide your sandals off before lying down, but keep them close by.  Your particularly feisty child may need a missile to launch at you for not arranging her not-right-color mat properly.
  • Range through the poses at your own pace – not that of your instructor.  You need to adjust for puppies crawling through your downward dog, snakes wriggling under your bridge, monkeys hanging onto your tree.
  • Accept your body as it is.  Don’t force the sore muscles of your shoulder or your tight hamstrings.  Your children will do that when they knock into you, sending your warrior tumbling.
  • Move your yoga practice outside for inspiration and variety.  Tell your children they may play nearby if they tire of yoga.  They will tire of yoga, but will stay right by your side, taunting and pleading for snacks and your attention.
  • Scan your body for areas of tension.  Notice the up-tick in your blood pressure as your children attempt acrobatics off the couch onto the yoga mats.
  • Do not abandon your practice before it is finished.  You came here to find inner peace and relax, dammit.
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Living, May is Mental Health Month, Mental Health

Laugh So You May Not Cry

My grandmother came from a large first-generation Irish-American family.  All blessed with a wicked, but subtle sense of humor and superb poker faces, it was easy for their humor to run under the radar.

But what if the humor itself hid something below the surface?

One of her siblings, a woman I never met due to her premature death and my postponed birth, made dear through family love and lore, apparently had the sharpest wit imaginable.  She brought joy wherever she went and had everyone in stitches.

When I was older, I learned that she had suffered from depression.  My first inclination was to think how ironic that was given her ability to inject laughter into any situation, but I realized that made her the perfect candidate, then, for family comedian.

It made sense that the person with the most pain to hide would be the one who needed the most diversion; both keeping her mind off her own problems and drawing others’ attention away from them.

It’s easier to crack a joke than to admit you’re trying so hard to force a smile your face might crack.  It takes less energy to make a witty remark drawing a laugh than dealing with the awkward silences and looks of pity.  There’s less mental energy and anguish in concocting playful banter than constructing a viable explanation for your moods.

My senior English teacher, who later became a mentor as I prepared for an education career myself, when dealing with a particularly challenging class or situation, would say, ‘Laugh so you may not cry.’  I quoted that line as I waited out the next contraction in my difficult third labor.  My midwife couldn’t believe I still had that attitude at that point in the game.  ‘You have to, right?’ I asked.  ‘Not everyone does, though, Jen,’ she answered.

I had to.

Not finding some bright spot, some positive attitude, was akin to curling up in a ball and dying.  And that was not an option.  So, then, there really was no choice.  By process of elimination, grinning and bearing it was the only way to move forward.

Whether it’s an avoidance tactic or a coping mechanism, humor gets a lot of people through their days.  And from that deep, dark place of truly authentic experience comes some damn good material.

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Living, motherhood, Recovery

The Butt of the Joke

What is it about the fabric on the butt of a bathing suit?  Is the fabric such that it always sags?  Or is it just the mass amount needed to cover my ass?  Maybe it just gets tired and worn out as time goes by – not unlike the skin on my body.

I had youth on my side with the first pregnancy.  After # 2, my breasts resembled tennis balls in tube socks.  And # 3?  After that one, I visited every specialist under the sun.

Pelvis malfunction and a left hip always slipping out?  Physical Therapist

Lower back and left buttock numb?  Chiropractor

Developing bunions (found by way of visit for ingrown toenail)? Podiatrist

My husband, knowing it would no doubt get my goat (which it most certainly did), joked that he was going to trade me in for a newer model.  Nevertheless, through exercises, adjustments, and orthotics, I regained mobility.  But just as absence makes the heart grow fonder, so did I forget how much continued maintenance and exercise matters.  Gradually, my routine lessened, then, went by the wayside.

Two years later, I have a near-constant stitch where my left hamstring meets my butt.  The place where my abs weakened and spread now yawns open hungrily.  I have saddlebags where once there were all straight lines and angles.

Now, I’ve heard of how ladies in years past, like those found in Rubens’ paintings, were valued for their curves and wide hips, signifying their life-giving capabilities.  And I do enjoy a certain comfort with my body more now than at any other point in my life.  Once upon a time, I was extremely shy about my body, even though I had a ‘cute little figure’.  Now that I’ve seen it morph and grow and sag, I realize I should’ve flaunted it when I had the chance.  But after bearing it all to give birth and publicly breastfeeding, I enjoy a ‘take me as I am’ attitude and a pride akin to battle scars, I suppose.  Plus, there’s only so much stretch before an elastic won’t snap back into place.  Just like accepting what your body is capable of on a given day of yoga, I accept that there are certain realities about my current form I must accept.  It is what it is.

It’s also a source of great amusement – because as I tell myself so often – laugh so that you may not cry.  And it’s something to share with my friends as we grow older together.  Just the other day, I received this card in the mail from my dear friend.

Maybe with the increasing effects of gravity over the years, I’ll at least stay grounded  ☺

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