Crazy (Joy)

Energy–need some. Wild and screaming boys–I’ve had quite enough this week thank you.

I love having boys and playing with boys. Love rough-housing and teasing. Love hugging and cuddling and only having to make sure their heavy machinery pajama pants are clean. I love not doing their hair. I love the relative lack of drama and their daredevil natures. I love that the tears are usually real and only last a short while, that they forget I yelled irrationally, impatiently at them five minutes after it happened. I love that a hug changes everything.

But they Wear Me Out. They are crazy. Are all boys crazy like this? Every one says so. But when I say it, I mean crazy like wild, primitive, undomesticated, feral crazy. Crazy uncivilized. Maybe I am just getting old. I am tired of hearing myself yell at them to stay out of the street, to be gentle, to not run each other over with their bikes/trikes, to refrain from hitting each other over the head with their snow shovels.

Too much going on lately. It’s leaves-falling-off-the-trees-season in Ohio, and there’s a lot of trees. This fall has been the most golden since I moved to Ohio, but fall means winter is on deck, and my whole person fights against that dormition. A sadness sets in; it is one of the hardest transitions for me to bear. Once I’m really in it, I adjust and love the snow and am grateful that the bare trees open the sky again, but every year it’s the same. Fall hurts.

So there’s that. And then a couple of nights ago, G spent the night throwing up while Sophie (the most voracious of our voracious mutts) ate a mass the size of a half tennis ball off her back hip. Just gnawed it off. She had to have emergency surgery the next day. She is recovering, must wear boxer shorts (it took three trips to Target to find the right size), and the cone of shame. We must cordon her off in a small room so that she doesn’t pop her stitches, which irritates her to no end. Thank God for the sedating effect of pain killers.

And let us not forget Albert Einstein. That’s who Jonah chose to be for Famous Person Day at school, and yes it was a perfect fit, and yes it was hilarious. He gave a 45 second report that began with “Albert Einstein was a thinker” and ended with “He gave his brain to science” (click HERE for video). Much important shuffling of notecards perfected his routine. I also learned a great deal about Maya Angelou, Marie Curie, and Madame C.J. Walker (an entrepreneur and philanthropist who developed hair straightening products). Unlike these famous persons, I’m no genius, especially when it comes to hair. I spent 45 minutes trying to make J’s hair stand on end, only to end up with a sticky, stiff mess. He was a little disappointed with the effect, or lack thereof, but he got over it.

Sometimes. Life. You stack it all up and think, I can’t live through another week like this. I’m still reeling now. Comes of not being a very flexible human being. O yeah, and a lack of sleep. And a dog who eats tumors. But back to those boys. I failed to mention joy in all that crazy. Come to think of it, joy is certainly at some core of their wildness. I just started a French novel called Joy of Man’s Desiring. I’m only twenty pages in, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a keeper.

“Youth,” said the man, “is joy. And youth is neither strength nor nimbleness…it is the passion for the useless.”
“The useless,” he added, raising his finger, “as people say.” –Jean Giono, Joy of Man’s Desiring

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One thought on “Crazy (Joy)

  1. Well, cold comfort maybe, but my boy is crazy too. And we’ve had a similar insane fall, and we’re a battleground state too. And you might like the Elegance of the Hedgehog, if you haven’t already read it. I liked it…and it’s French too.

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