whalebones
WINDSORS OR SOMETHING
Other than people in literal hunter-gatherer societies, I might be the person who cares the absolute least about the British royal family. I’m not even proud or snobbish about it, the way I might be about not knowing which Kardashian is which or something like that. There is simply a blank spot where my royal caring should be. I remember the Diana wedding dress because the sleeves were so ridiculous, I remember the Kate wedding dress because I thought it was so much better than the actress lady’s, and I remember the Diana death because I was visiting Phoenix, of all places (terrible city, do not recommend, you can be mad at me if you are Phoenician but it’s true), and I got irritated at a bar because it was on all the televisions. I wanted to get drunk and bullshit with people, not see gruesome car-wreck images all night.
I honestly do try to let people enjoy things but I have realized that I can get pretty grumpy if I’m around people talking about things I do not want to talk about. It’s not a great trait and it probably speaks of an unpleasant borderline narcissism. Whether it’s the royals or the latest Republican atrocity or my son (whom I love) dissecting different accents and the way different people pronounce different words, if it doesn’t interest me I will probably try to subtly or not-so-subtly change the subject.
LET’S KEEP THIS SELF-CRITICAL LENS GOING
This selfishness is a real downfall of mine, and it’s weird because in other ways I think people would describe me as “generous”—with the benefit of the doubt, with time, with hospitality and food, etc. I suppose I just want to be generous only when I want to be generous, and when I don’t I have a hard time sucking it up and continue reaching out.* The plus side of this is that I rarely have the seething resentment caused by “emotional labor” imbalances—I stop participating instead! Screw you all! Palms down!**
*Exceptions of course for parenting time/energy/emotional labor, because you cannot ignore or ghost your child, at least not without being a real monster.
**I had a yoga teacher who said that if you want to give and receive energy while in sitting meditation or savasana, you should turn your hands palms-up, in the classic Buddha-statue style—if you’d rather keep your energy to yourself, turn them palms-down. I kind of mentally turn my mental hands palm-down every time I think of that.
A WEIRD THING I HAVE DONE FOREVER
If I am watching an old movie and there is a dog or a cat, I will say (out loud, usually), “That cat’s dead now.” All the people in the movie, both on-screen and behind the scenes, are often also dead, but that doesn’t need to be mentioned.
I am not sad about it, it is just a fact like an interesting pebble, that someone was like “we need a cat for this scene” and a cat was procured and filmed and did not particularly care about any of it, and then the cat returned to its regularly scheduled cat life and, at some point, died. I don’t do this as much with horses or cows, but sometimes.
YOUR MUSICAL FAMILY
- Sisters of Mercy
- The Mamas and the Papas
- Mom Jeans
- Soccer Mommy
- Hockey Dad
- Adult Mom
- Mommy Long Legs
- Cyberbully Mom Club
- Daughter
- New Kids on the Block
- Middle Kids
- Destiny’s Child
- Sonny Rollins
- Scissor Sisters
- Twisted Sister
- Red Aunts
- Uncle Tupelo
- Granddad
- Great Grandpa
There are others that I refuse to acknowledge, like the existence of Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, and a few others that I have heard of but could not claim to “know”—so I limited the list to artists where I’ve at least listened to some of it. Also not allowed: artist/band names where the family relationship is an unimportant part of the name or part of a word that is not a relationship (Mark Mothersbaugh, Childbirth), and obvious old-timey group names (The Pointer Sisters, The Chemical/Everly/Doobie Brothers).
EYELESS
I still get up way before dawn but the actual quality of sleep has been slightly better lately,
This is probably thanks to melatonin, CBD, THC, Sleepytime tea, one of these weird sleep stickers on my ankle, benadryl if I’m feeling old school, and tiny amounts of benzodiazepines. (Not all on the same night.) However, I’d also like to give a shout-out to sleep masks. I used to only wear these for daytime naps, on airplanes, or on vacations with insufficient curtains or an excessive nearness to the Arctic Circle (hello Iceland). But lately I have been wearing one at night too, because it seems to give my body a gentle signal during night awakenings: hey idiot, it’s sleep time, remember? Mine is a nice silk fabric but is otherwise super low-tech—if you are a sleep mask fan and like some fancy kind with eye cups or velcro or lasers please share the rec.
HE CAN DO LAUNDRY BUT I DO IT BECAUSE
Absolutely perfect writing about teenagers and parenthood from my genius internet friend! Also I am in this paragraph, about doing everyday chores as a sort of mothering proxy-work for 18-year-olds etc, and I don’t like it:
I know it’s not really in anyone’s interests for me to do this stuff for my sons and they don’t expect me to. It does them and the world a disservice to send out entitled man-babies. As a counterbalance, I have tried to engrain habits that will make them into nicer people to live with: taking out the bins and emptying the dishwasher without waiting to be asked; not finishing the good chocolate or leaving empty juice cartons in the fridge. I can’t help myself, though: every stupid gesture or small task they could have done themselves is a wrong-headed expression of how much I love them and how few outlets I still have to show it.
PIZZA FOR DINNER YES AGAIN
I make a lot of pizza dough in my stand mixer and the whole point of the stand mixer is that you don’t have to stand there and knead dough with your hands. (I know some people enjoy this part of bread/dough processing but I do not.) However, I always seem to end up elbows on counter, chin in hands, peeking over the edge of the stand mixer bowl to meditatively stare for the entire process. I like how dough will stick to the sides, sometimes long enough to make me think oh, I should stop the motor and push that down, but eventually (as long as the hydration ratio was right) the whirling majority will scoop it off the sides all on its own. I like to picture a joyful dancing cult in the grip of a mass delusion, Midsommar-style—some are standing on the sidelines but no! Dance with us! Join hands, no wait, literally join your entire body with ours and we will become one doughy mass! And in this way resistance is overcome, and eventually: pizza.
—mimi smartypants is honored to be your May Queen.