Finding the Humor

Blogging is really a strange medium. From the outside, it looks much like a diary of my life, except funnier and with better pictures. But I am really rather private about what I post on SAHMnambulist, believe it or not. (I will admit that LO may have something to say about that when he gets older and realizes just how much detail I've given about his diaper habits). And because I do keep a distance between Emily and the SAHMnambulist, I've been having some trouble deciding what to write while my mother is ill. I've been afraid of seeming unfeeling or overly concerned about getting back to normal if I post my normal humorous stories about LO's antics, but I simply can't open myself and my real feelings up to the greater internet, despite having kept a personal blog for going on two years now.

This is all twisted together with the fact that the last few years have helped me to understand the importance of humor in my life. Having the opportunity to laugh and to make others laugh helps me to feel human and normal and sane--which feels like a lot of weight to put on frivolity. It also seems like it flies in the face of the serious emotions one feels when life is being a shitty drag. That's not to say I don't understand the healing power of laughter. I endured Patch Adams and have the Robin Williams-shaped scar to prove it. It just feels disingenuous of me to spend time thinking of the funniest way to describe a diaper explosion when my mother is fighting for her life in a hospital.

Despite this conflict I'm feeling, I also know my mom fairly well. I know she'll make it--not just because she's my mother but also because all indications point that way and even the most pessimistic doctors are giving us things to hope for. I also know that she'll want to know what LO has been up to while she's been sleeping. I'd like to give her something to giggle about when she's awake and on her road to recovery.

Ultimately, I know that she'll be proud of what I've written, even if it's not the soul-baring work I could write. I mainly know this because she's proud of everything I write. (She reminds me of Ron Howard's mother. When he won the Oscar for Apollo 13, he said his mother would have thought it was his best movie. He knew this, he said, because she said every movie he made was the best.) It's good to know that the sun rises and sets from your blogging fingers or directing hands (as opposed to some other part of your anatomy) for at least one person in the whole world.

Starting tomorrow, I'm going to return to my normal SAHMnambulist activities, featuring my feud with the library, LO's new attempts at conversation, and possibly a reference to whatever television show I'm currently obsessed with [position open now that I'm current with How I Met Your Mother and Archer].

Mom, when you read these posts about daily life while you're recovering, I hope you laugh.