Making a comeback takes balls…

7 05 2009

You have Meg Hickling to thank for this blogging comeback. Meg Hickling, and of course, my own uncanny ability to make a rational decision based on the most logical, well-thought-out list of pros and cons…and then decide that the road to crazyville is, in fact,  paved with rational decisions and pros and cons lists, and that I’d be better off  reversing my rational, well-thought-out decision, even at the risk of looking like a flip flopper. Personally, I’m a fan of the flip-flop. It’s a sign of flexibility. Of an ability to appropriately analyze and react to the assorted ebbs and flows of life. Any knuckle head can make a decision and  stick by it. It takes real brains and real cajones to know when to pull a complete 180. So here I am, frantically 180-ing away at my keyboard, with Squiggles parked in front of the tube demonstrating her uncanny ability to repeat an entire episode of Bear in the Big Blue House, word for word.

Ohhhhhh yes. Domestic Blister is back.

In the weeks since I shattered all your poor little reader hearts with the abrupt throwing in of my perpetually un-laundered blog towel, I’ve had plenty of time to just sit back and observe my family and my life without the pressure of turning the Blister family’s every foible into some sort of heart warming life lesson and/or smart-assed social commentary and/or barf-laced cautionary tale. And I realized something: I can’t not write this blog. Not because  I have any particular wisdom to impart. And certainly not because there’s a shortage of narcissistic brain farting on the internet. You, my readers, and the blogosphere in general, might not need this blog. But I do.  I need this quasi-public outlet for my writing and my experiences. I need a place to dump out all the sad and hilarious and furious and fuzzy thoughts that constantly mill around in my mind. I need to put my words out there, and see what happens. And I don’t care if the work I do on this – and make no mistake, this is work – never makes me a penny. And I don’t care if my writing or my mothering or my life doesn’t live up to any expectations other than my own. And I don’t care if I have to start mainlining Red Bull just to stay up past 10 pm; or feeding my family microwaved chicken legs basted in no-name shame sauce, served atop a pile of Mr. Noodles once a week; or letting Squiggles use the laptop so she can transcribe episodes of Bear in the Big Blue House, just to keep her out of my hair long enough to hack out a post. What ever it takes to put out these stories of my life, I’ll do. I need to write this blog.

And here is why: Apart from the fact that I have always been compelled- possibly by forces beyond my control – to blab about myself,  I have also been blessed with a weirdo family, who are, quite frankly, a lot of fun to blab about too. And here is where Meg Hickling comes in to play. Here is the story that forced me back to blogging. The story that I just could not not share:

***WARNING*** The following anecdote contains  cute shit my kid said, graphic descriptions of human reproductive organs, and Domestic Blister’s trademark storytelling style, which may induce urine leakage in those with compromised kegel muscles. Clench ’em if you’ve got, folks…

So, quite some time ago, I bought Neener and Roo the book Boys, Girls and Body Science, by Meg Hickling. It kicked around on our bookshelf largely unnoticed for well over a year. Until recently. In the book,  a cartoon Meg – who is a sexual health educator with a scientific approach- visits a cartoon classroom to explain and answer cartoon kids’ questions about cartoon bodies and cartoon boobies and cartoon baby making. It’s a great little book. Friendly, frank and factual. And funny. At least, it was when Roo read it.

It took me a minute to figure out what she was reading on that fatefully Saturday afternoon, when she discovered Boys, Girls and Body Science on the bookshelf. At first, all I heard was laughing. Then, with steadily increasing volume, and skyrocketing enthusiasm I heard her repeat one word: “BALLS!”  Over and over and over again. Until she was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. At which point, Neener arrived on the scene and picked up right where Roo left off: The cry of  ” BALLS! BALLS! BALLS!” rang out through the Blisterdome until Neener and Roo were reduced to crumpled heaps of hysterical giggles. See, in the book’s bit about male reproductive organs, Meg asks the class what they know about boy’s body parts. In an attempt to illustrate the importance of not using slang words, Meg responds by offering up the correct terminology when one of the kids eagerly shouts out the word balls. Which then leads to a conversation about using scientific words, and a little explanation about testicles being little ball-shaped parts of a boy’s body, and they are held in a wrinkly sack known as the scrotum. But what do my kids learn from Hickling’s rational, well-thought-out little story? Why, to shout out the word “BALLS!” at the top of their lungs, of course! So I tried to get the “BALLS!”  under control. I sat with them on the couch and read the book with them, carefully trying to de-emphasize the part where the kid shouts the word balls. And it went well. They got it. They learned a lot. And they stopped yelling “BALLS!” at least temporarily. Probably because they got so distracted by the word urethra. When we finished reading, I told them that if they had any questions, I was here for the asking. Nope, no questions, they said. Whew. So, we put the book back on the shelf and went to the kitchen to have a snack, as I patted myself on the back for not only ending the “BALLS!” fest, but for helping Neener and Roo really get a handle on some anatomical and biological fundamentals.

Then, Roo mused out loud:

” So, are there balls AND skipping ropes in a scrotum?”

At which point, I’m pretty sure some urine escaped from my urethra. And I hope some just did from yours too. Because that, my friends, is what this blog is all about.

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8 responses

7 05 2009
Wilda

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahhahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahhahahhahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahhahahahhaha……damn…must go change ….

7 05 2009
Wilda

PS
WELCOME BACK

7 05 2009
Aunt MaryLou

So glad you are back!! Loved this story!

7 05 2009
vicky

Glad to see you back:) And I think I’m now glad that my kids read below grade level:)

7 05 2009
Jody

yessss, sheeeeeeee’s baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

8 05 2009
Nana

You made my day. Dave and I are still laughing out loud!

21 05 2009
Tom

O.K. I now feel a whole lot of guilt for telling Ben that “the Doctor’s help Mommy get the baby out of her tummy”…. sadly, tonight he asked, “How exactly, does the Doctor help, and where EXACTLY does it come out?” I now have to get a hold of Meg Hicklings book. Reminder to myself… downplay the “balls” part of the book.

22 05 2009
nanny

That’s my girls!Glad yo’re back, Blister!

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