Revenge of The Aging Mother
Don't play with me, darlings. I've got this thing nailed.
I recently said this to my two (lovely) children — and watched their faces form in some sort of abject terror:
“Has it occurred to you that I will get even more weird as I grow older?”
Because it’s true — and they should prepare themselves for max weirdness in the coming years.
Remember, weird is like a skin rash. Once you stop controlling it, that shit is going to spread everywhere. And getting older — if we are lucky enough to still be here — means the weird comes out more and more.
Everyone should batten the hatches because I’m not even trying to hide the weird anymore — and neither should you.
One Caution — Or Not
Now, I’m not talking weird like the old man season-ticket-holder who sits in front of me at the Seattle Storm games — that is, until he stands up for TWO MINUTES during each game to look at his phone and/or fix his ponytail. (Why these things can’t happen while he is sitting or maybe during a timeout, I don’t know.)
Don’t be that guy weird. Or maybe be exactly that. Weird is weird and I don’t get to dictate your weird and you don’t get to choose mine. Matter of fact, if the entire row in front of me did what that guy does, then I wouldn’t think it was weird at all, right? I need to get over his weirdness.
But I digress.
Please let us turn our attention to the Grand Weirdness Plan sure to annoy our children and grandchildren, so it must be enacted because we all know that we are here to guide and embarass them. It’s our duty.
Next Steps!
Feel free to spring this impending tide of weirdness warning on your kids today. Or if you don’t have kids, try it on other relatives or even your weird friends, because you have them, too.
“Good morning! Has it occurred to you that I will get even more weird as I grow older?”
I promise you’ll start a conversation. And then let your weird self out to play. It’s been boxed up for far too long.
Your loved ones can handle it — and at least they’ll really remember you.