Say I'm An Early Riser

To say that humor runs in our family would be a crime — because it doesn’t. But it flirts with being hereditary. We’re not comedians, but we’re quick, usually with sarcasm.

I used to leave what I thought were inspiring messages on a chalkboard in our kitchen. They weren’t the cheesy ones you’d find on a coffee cup. My messages were more like, I love you. No, I really love you. Scratch that, I guess they were cheesy.

One day, convinced no one read them, or worse, rolled their eyes at them, I decided to change things up. I erased the latest message and instead wrote in my best chalk-writing, Honk if you read this.

Then I waited. Days went by, and still, nothing. No making fun of what I wrote, just questions about what was there to eat. Weeks later, after a particularly full day of work and the kid’s after-school stuff, I was in the kitchen with my back to the chalkboard. Enough time had passed that the message wasn’t top of mind.

Then, I heard a honk. From inside the house. I turned to see my son cupping his hands around his mouth, and the honking sound was coming from him. Then he grinned. I don’t know if that counts as funny or just terrifyingly observant, but either way, he was playing the game. And it brought a smile to my face when I didn’t even know I needed one.

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When Mitch and I were engaged, our friends threw us a couple’s shower. Mitch had the hairbrained idea to wear one of my dresses to the shower. He wanted me to wear his signature outfit of shorts, a golf shirt, and flip-flops. I said I’d go with it, and we wore our prescribed outfits. The bigger challenge was staying “in costume” the entire party. We did it, so there are some pictures out there of Mitch in a dress. I can’t believe he fit into my clothes in the first place, and kept them on, too! I had already decided he was it. So, this was another reminder of the fun I had in my future, and it was all because of him.

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My son was always a great sleeper. He would nap for hours when he was a baby. I’d always get a ton of things done when he was down for the count. He’s now in college and living at home. We hardly see him because he’s either in class, at the gym, at work, or in bed. It’s safe to say that most of his time is spent in his room, and what I’d assume in bed. It’s his way of hiding from us, since he’s living at home. So, when he woke this afternoon, yes, I said this afternoon, we started teasing him.

He didn’t have class today so he stayed up late last night playing video games. By the time I saw him, he was just rolling out of bed, and we we’re teasing him about the possibility of him having bed sores. He was planning on going on a run, and the sun would soon be setting, so we were talking routes. He proposed a route that would take him on roads with no sidewalks to which I said, not a good idea. He shrugged it off, and announced he was leaving for his run. My son is always on. So, when he said goodbye, I asked him what he’d like me to say at his funeral, and, without missing a beat, he answered, “Say I was an early riser.”

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When my daughter was in fourth grade and my son in first, she decided to put him in what she called Gentleman School. She was the principal, teacher, and head of curriculum.

As the only pupil in Gentleman School, my son was to receive one-on-one attention, which, it turns out, made his results soar. He signed on immediately. By sign on, I mean he said okay. Registration, birth certificate verification, and previous records were not required. Class was to start the next day.

The teacher did not provide a syllabus and instead chose to surprise him with the lessons when the timing suited her needs. I witnessed most of it, and those surprise lessons were more like a baptism by fire and a training on the job all rolled into one. He took it like a champ.

Lesson One: Opening and Holding the Door

The student was to open the door for her when they were leaving the house, and again, when they were entering school. She would happily demonstrate anything if he asked, but he never did. He was a natural. When he opened the door for her at school on his first day, he did that and more, tipping his invisible hat and stating, “Ma’am.” Remember, he was in first grade. He might have been going for extra credit — I surely didn’t tell him how to do any of that. What’s scary is that she would get to the door first and stand aside waiting for him to open it. By day three, she didn’t have to say a word to him — he knew what to do.

Lesson Two: Carry Her Bags

He was to carry her backpack full of books and her lunch, along with his own. He’s not the biggest kid, and his own backpack was more like a coat. It turns out, I gave birth to a Sherpa who wore a smile, neon shorts and tennis shoes that light up. At times, she forgot she was supposed to be teaching a masterclass, distracted by something else. But she rebounded and came back with lesson three.

Lesson Three: Open the car door

He was to open her car door at school pick up and wait for her to get in before he got into the vehicle himself. At this point, I tried to suggest that surely Gentleman School must be over, the bell had rung. But no. This continued for a full week.

I tried to tell my son, “Hey buddy, I think she’s training you to be her bitch.” But that didn’t go over well. For one, he had no idea what I meant. Plus, he was doing really well and wanted to make it to graduation. I kept asking when graduation would take place, and she’d always answer with “soon.” In the end, he graduated with flying colors wearing a plastic tiara she chose from her home collection.

I never thought that my fourth grader would be a conniving CEO/Head Mistress, nor did I think my first grader would follow the program with such heart and dedication. I’m chalking this up to another Mother-of-the-Year entry for not stopping this whole experiment in the first place. But I must say, it was hilarious to witness.

To this day, he opens doors automatically for anyone. He’s especially attentive to his grandmother, helping her get seated and ensuring she is comfortable. He even says, “Yes, Ma’am,” when I ask him to do something, even though we’ve never required that.

Now, if I could get him to ditch eating like he’s a one-meal-a-day criminal doing heavy time, we’d be in business.

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One year, when my kids were little and on Spring Break, we decided to take a staycation and did a lot of local activities. One of those was to be a boat ride and a visit to Alcatraz. I bought tickets ahead of time and was so excited for the kids to see what this former prison looked like. I signed us up for the audio night tour. I had previously been on this tour and remember being locked in a prison cell during the tour. This prison is dark and can be somewhat creepy at night.

I was so excited for my family to fully experience the tour, so I did some planning and brought up my idea at dinner one night. I sourced some orange jumpsuits for the whole family and was all ready to order them upon their approval. I suggested we all dress up as prisoners to make our tour more realistic. I told them that there would be no lunch, and they’d only earned 15 minutes in the exercise yard that day.

I heard, “You’ve got to be kidding” from one, and “Absolutely, no way, you’re crazy” from the other. My husband just shrugged their responses off. I know I said my family is fun and would sometimes play the game, but not this time. I did not purchase the jumpsuits. It would have made for a memorable day, but not that day.

It must be mentioned that I, just recently, convinced a friend of mine that it was a good idea to dress in Shark onesies to go bar hopping. I arrived at her door with mine on and hers in a bag. We showed up at an outdoor bar with our husbands, and it happened to be freezing out, requiring a heavy jacket.

The guys had their jackets, we had our cozy sharksies, and we were the warmest, most ridiculous things on the patio. At one point, someone asked if we’d lost a bet. We hadn’t. We’d just said yes to the dumb idea — and honestly, isn’t that the best kind?

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I honestly don’t think we can prove that humor is hereditary. Even if we could, we really don’t have the time to do genetic testing, review our family tree, or launch a study. Let’s just say we like to laugh and leave it at that. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I think I make fun of myself to make light of a situation. I also find that the more I see humor, the more it appears. What’s not to love? My son and I usually banter back and forth because we think the same way, and both get a kick out of what will happen next.

Bottom line, I should remember that if and when anxiety, worry, or aging parents and their health rear their ugly head, I’ve got a team of people fully trained in bringing a chuckle — I plan to keep them close.