stand up + geese
The venn diagram of toddlers, fowl and terrorism
As the first in my friend group to have kids, I spent a lot of time perfecting my stand-up act. I'd show up to New York, or Malibu, or the remote cabin we'd Airbnb'ed for our annual weekend trip, wearing a caftan and joking about my son pouring a bag of flour on my daughter's head (this did happen) or about how a lack of sleep made me hotter (this didn't happen).
What was happening was that I had no idea how to communicate to my very closest friends what life with small kids was like. I had no idea how to say, "I am so tired, no, SO tired." I couldn't articulate, "I feel like my brain is the surface of the moon, dried out and empty, and I am not sure I'll ever feel like myself again." My kids were (are! bless) feisty kids, which make for brilliant adult dinner party guests and truly exhausting children, especially around ages 1-3.
Now many of my friends have kids of their own and guess what? They are so tired and their brains are the moon! I love it! I really do, but also I see in their eyes, the fear I had: that if they can't articulate how hard some of parenting is, they won't be able to express how worth it is.
So they tell me jokes, and I laugh. They post cute photos on Instagram, and I comment how brilliant their baby is (I swear to you, one baby belongs in Mensa!). But something has changed within me (okay, Elphaba!)—I see the jokes and think, "Oh god, that parent is so tired." Because I know the fear and exhaustion of small kids is only matched by their brilliance, their humor. And so when I see a friend perform a stand-up routine about their children, I think of it as a way to say, "This kid makes me feel so much, can you hold some of it?"
This is maybe why I love my friends' kids, and why I want to yell at everyone I know with a baby to post like 1,000 more pictures (extra points for holiday jammies). It's a way of seeing each other, even the parts we can't say yet. So, I say, keep the jokes coming; I’ll keep reminding you it gets easier.
THIS MADE ME LAUGH/SCREAM WITH JOY
Let me just say, the door being opened and the goose entering the car? Comedy. But also, I am telling you, my resting cortisol these days? It is goose-in-car levels. The goose has entered the car. Might as well laugh about it.
Thinking of you in these high-cortisol days, especially you with brilliant babies, bless you.
xo- Kathleen
Liking this post (clicking the heart) at the top or bottom helps other people find a little laugh, as does sharing this (just forward the email!) with someone who might need a laugh, have a terrorist toddler, and/ or is a goose expert who will fight with me in the comments (every comment helps the algorithm, bring it on.)
I died when the goose got in the car!!
Story time.
This happened to my husband's friend. So he's cruising down the road going home from work (this was in the bullshit pre-covid days when we all thought it was acceptable to spend crazy amounts of time commuting back and forth from the office every damn day). He's going like 70 and the back window of his car shatters and sprays glass everywhere. He pulls over and is obviously very shaken and dazed. Cop shows up, and husband's friend is like, I have NO IDEA what happened, glass just sprayed everywhere, it's a mystery. And the cop looks in the car and is like, hmm, maybe this bloody dead goose in the backseat has something to do with it...unless it was there before?? Yes, a dead goose literally fell from the sky through his back car window. Those assholes will go after you EVEN WHEN THEY ARE DEAD.
The woman stole this Uber from this goose, who is merely trying to get home for the holidays.