Somewhere Between Reality and Ridiculous

I’m not sure the exact science behind it all, but somehow in the initial minutes after delivering your first child certain neurons in the brain misfire and create a slight disconnect between reality and the ridiculous. 

 

It won’t take long – just long enough for that first child to gain independent mobility – and the results of this cortical malfunction will show up in the form of “Mom-isms:” those patented phrases that somehow become part of the fibre of your being as a Mother.  You heard the Mom-isms throughout your formative years and were likely even militant that you would not succumb: “I’ll never say that!”  But lo and behold, there you are in a situation requiring some level of mental acuity and in its place profound absurdity rolls off your tongue like you have been practicing the line for years.  

“You’ll poke your eye out!”

“Don’t eat that, you’ll get worms!”

“Be careful, or you’ll crack your head open!”

Sound familiar?  I wish I could deny it.

Today my family was driving home after a marathon outing which required a fair amount of time  in the vehicle.  The kids were getting rambunctious and starting to “rough-house” (as my Mom use to call it) in the backseat.  Their laughing and squeals had been growing louder with each mile and both my husband and I had already taken a turn doling out warnings to “settle down!” (Whatever that means).  We drove on with that glazed look parents get when they are picturing their happy place (which often involves anytime after bedtime, but for us means a perfect world in which our SUV is equipped in a James Bond-like way with bullet and sound-proof glass dividing the front from the back…or at the very least, rear ejection seats).  The rough housing turned to bodily humor and suddenly as they began holding their noses and trying to exhale loudly/snort in a fashion that apparently was beyond hilarious, I broke out of my reverie.  And lost it.  Turning around in my seat I yelled: 

“Stop it!...You’ll kill brain cells doing that!”

At that moment I lost track of what was happening in the back seat.  I couldn’t see past the enormous smile that broke out on my beloved husband’s face.  He was shaking his head in disbelief.

“What’s so funny?” I asked naively.

“They’re going to kill brain cells???? That’s such a “Mom Thing” to say.”  He offered through his enormous smile.

“What do you mean that’s a “Mom Thing” to say?” I was defensive, but not offended…how could I be with him smiling at me like that?

His analytical brain kicked in at that point, “I just don’t see how plugging your nose could in any way kill brain cells…I don’t know why anyone would ever say that, there’s no connection! In fact, it’s more of a cause and effect thing with one impacting the other in the reverse of what you’re even suggesting.”

His smile was contagious and immediately I found myself in a fit of tearful giggles.  As I laughed myself silly I questioned my logic, “It was possible, wasn’t it?  Hadn’t I heard that before…that trying to exhale while holding your nose killed brain cells?  Hadn’t I?  I wasn't crazy...was I?”

I finally gained my composure and for a brief moment reveled in the realization that neither of us was exasperated with the back seat anymore…laughing together is something we always have done well.  The thought was fleeting however, as I quickly attempted to regain some dignity – tear stained face and all.

“I know it’s true,” I countered, “I’ve heard it before!”

It was the nail in the coffin as far as he was concerned.  With the slow, deliberate wit I have loved since the day I met him, he turned ever so slightly in his seat – eyes never leaving the road – and replied with dead on accuracy:

“Sure you have…probably from your Mom!”