Funny Like a Clown?

“Funny Mummy” implies more than cracking a good joke every now and then. When someone says that you’re funny it almost always means, “You’re bonkers and you make me seem less crazy.” I can just imagine my daughter saying to me one day, “Mom, you’re so funny.” And by that I will know that she really means I’m a loony toon. And I will be so proud. I would love her to think I’m funny for more than the silly faces I make and wacky nicknames I bestow upon her. Good god, what if she doesn’t have a sense of humor? Is that learned or inherent? Should I practice spit-takes in front of her and knock-knock jokes?

I guess all mothers are slightly insane. We’re insane because we let these tiny people spit up, defecate and urinate all over us and we still smile, clap, and kiss them all over right after they’ve done so. Who else in their right minds would put up with this? Since my daughter is still so young and the most she can do to me is these slightly offensive, but healthy, bodily functions, am I only at the beginning of my insanity? Is it going to get much worse as she gets older and can really inflict some damage? Drawings on the walls, eating pennies, and whatever else toddlers do? And then come the teen years. Hormones and attitudes. Ack. I’ll be 85% insane by then and a complete 100% when she graduates highschool.

And will I ever get it back? Will my sanity one day be restored? When my baby eventually leaves me in the dust will I get my fully functioning brain back as if it were waiting gift-wrapped sitting in a forgotten closet somewhere? God, I hope so because it’s only “Hello rest home” from there and I don’t want to be that crazy old woman who forgot to put her teeth in all because motherhood fried my brain.

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