-or- my mind is out there somewhere
Parents are insane.
No, really. They are. Just ask any one of them. To decide to disrupt your perfectly stable, adult, sophisticated home with little creatures who can't care for themselves, usually ignore what you say to them, can't communicate worth a darn (at least at the beginning, though I would argue the communication problems persist for many years), and just generally require all your energy, is not the act of sensible minds.
Nope, we are insane.
But being insane is helpful in the endeavor as well. In fact, I would argue that those who can fully give up that stable adult life (at least at times) enjoy the ride a whole lot more. Case in point: yesterday afternoon.
The A man and I (that would be our 8 month old son) were the only ones home, the women folk out about the town. Dishes loomed, and Big Al was getting a little cranky (nap time, but he refused to relent). So I bring him in his standy-uppy-thingy (you either know what I mean or explaining will be pointless) into the kitchen. Throw on some Trans-Siberian Orchestra, turn it up a decent amount, and start doing the dishes. Oh, and putting on a one man show.
I was singing at the top of my voice, using my raspy 'rocker voice' that my classically trained wife wouldn't approve of. Big Al was loving it, laughing up a storm. So I start jumping up and down, singing away, just basically being crazy. You know, acting in a way that my little kids love, but that will make them wish they were dead in a few years.
This goes on for a good bit of time. Quite a few minutes of me screaming, jumping, tickling him, and washing an occasional dish. Suddenly I could feel eyes. Uh-oh. I look out the open sliding glass door and there are a couple of neighbor kids, standing, staring, mouths open. Yes, you could tell they thought I had lost my mind. Of course, as soon as they realized I saw them they took off running. But the damage was done. My secret is out, and who knows to whom they will spill it:
I am insane. But hey, my kids love it.