Fake it til you make it

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.”

– Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night

I used to think that I was a…not so enthusiastic person. The anti Manic Pixie Dream Girl, if you will.

So not my thing.

And I wasn’t entirely wrong. However, I’m not Marvin the Paranoid Android, either.

I like Alan Rickman’s Marvin better, though.

Though I’ve spent a lot of my life believing otherwise. No, I’m kind of in between, really.

Not this blunt with the kids, obvs.

But I am far more enthusiastic and peppy since having children. Because of them, and at times in spite of them. It seems like a put-on to some, I’m sure. But unlike the forced optimism I put forth when my endo was at its worst, this is real.

In general, I try very hard to always have something to anticipate. An outing, a project, even just a new dish for dinner. I want to teach my kids to look forward to the future. And I want to continue to feed their sense of wonder.

cool mom.gif
So cool.

Granted, I do not always feel the enthusiasm I project. I’m over 40, I work two jobs, and pep has never been my strong suit. But wonder is in my wheelhouse. So I try. And usually, even if I do not start out feeling excited, by the time I’m done talking things up I’m just as pumped as they are.

Where things fall apart is when the kids are…well, kids. Because I play the fun card too frequently sometimes, I guess. It loses its novelty. Outings and projects and surprises become par for the course, and the reaction I get is less

Only with more booty shaking.

and more

Never give them snacks in a moving vehicle.

and I get all

Sans the violence, of course.

Then I get over it and start planning the next thing, because I am apparently a closet optimist.

My closet is smaller, though, and less stripey.

And because sometimes, things just…work out.

Not stuff like this. There’d be wine everywhere.

So I will continue, until they are embarrassed to be seen in public with me. And then a little bit beyond that. That’s just the kind of mom I am.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s