I told Lizzie this morning that I was writing a very boring blog post and she said, “Are you writing about me?” When I said no, she said, “Write about me and it won’t be boring. People like it when you write about me.” Which, okay, she’s got a point. I haven’t written about any conversations with my kids in quite awhile, but when I used to do that, you guys enjoyed them (or were polite enough to say you did, anyway). So I shelved the boring blog post about the flowers and birds on my porch and started on this one. (Thank God. I mean, really, Jen… flowers and birds?)
The problem is, I usually have a really good memory for dialogue, but my mind has been filled with white noise lately. So I don’t have any great conversations to report. When I mentioned that to Liz, she said sniffily, “Well, I’m sorry for not being entertaining enough for you…” But it’s not that she isn’t as hilarious as always (God, a double negative. Deconstruct that sentence, if you will. I’m too lazy to rewrite). It’s more that my brain is broken: nothing has staying power anymore. Is this age? Covid-brain? Just the natural consequences of 2020?
So, I scrolled through some of our recent text conversations and found a few that might make you giggle. Or they might make you roll your eyes. Or they might make you think, “I can’t believe they let this woman be a mother.” (Personally, I’ve always marveled at that, too.)
Taken together, these actually paint a pretty accurate picture of what it’s like to begin life on your own. Which is actually kind of similar to what it’s like to be re-creating yourself in middle age. Or maybe I’m just looking too hard for some connection to what this blog is supposed to actually be about.
Anyway, Lizzie is in gray. I’m in blue.
That’s all I’ve got today, people. I’d love to add a witty wrap-up, but I seem to have lost my wit in 2020. Remember when I used to be funny? Sigh. Maybe next year.
Anyway, have fun til next time. Lots of love, you guys.