Welcome to 2017, everyone!
I just realized that this intro makes it seem as though I was already in 2017 and I’ve just been waiting for the rest of you to arrive. That is not the case. We all got here at about the same time, give or take a few different time zones. But now that we are all here, and school has blissfully started again for my six-year-old (who is down two teeth and up one Baby Alive, a doll who eats and then fouls its diaper), I would like to impart some relationship wisdom to you all, in the form of the following tale.
On a recent fine evening, my husband was lifting my hands so that I could pick my nose. I already know what you’re thinking: how can I make this magic happen at my own house? It’s been a long time since I was able to blow my own nose, and Rob’s fingers have been proven too Shrek-like for maximum effect, so this is how we do it sometimes. The holiday fever had mostly died down, though our house was still softly lit by the Christmas tree, and it was quiet, since Scarlett and Otto were snuggled up in her room, visions of baby poop and pig’s ears dancing in their heads. I’m pretty sure Rob’s eyes were squarely on me, and not at all on the football game playing from our 65-inch television screen, when a booger the size of a Gummy Bear fell out of my nostril and onto my dress.
“Ew,” I said. “That thing looks like a gummy bear. Get it.”
My husband, no doubt enamored by this glamorous encounter, swept the offender away with a tissue and no words. It is as though he was overcome by this moment of intimacy that every couple so desires. This, my friends. This is how you keep the spark alive. You’re welcome. We basically didn’t talk for the rest of the evening, except when I was asking for more wine, because I sure am not giving that up in 2017.
I used to be a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I remember in 2012 I had a long list of them. On the list was the item: Figure Out Health Issues. I was so confident that I would learn what was wrong with my clumsy body and move on to the next project. I did figure out my health issue that year, although it took me six months to do it. I even met my other goals of joining a gym and getting pregnant. But those two didn’t last.
I don’t do resolutions anymore. It’s not that I don’t want to better myself, it’s just that I no longer see what is so special about a year. Why not make a resolution each day or each week? I don’t do those things either, but the timing all seems equally arbitrary. I don’t think that’s true for everyone. I don’t think it was true when I was healthy and I could reasonably assume that I would be roughly the same person at the end of 365 days. In that case, wanting to become better makes sense.
I’m working on some different kind of writing lately. The problem is that much of my inspiration comes to me at night, as it always has, but back when I could, I would get up and write a few notes. Now I lie in bed and try to hold onto my thoughts, sure that there are nuggets within that are worth remembering and maybe even sharing. In the morning when I sit down to recall them, it’s like reaching into a still lake, expecting to grab hold of something sparkly, slippery. Of course I come up empty. All I did was startle the fish. And then I’m not even sure if I had anything special to begin with.
On New Year’s Eve, my family went around the table and talked about the best and worst parts of 2016. It was widely agreed that the birth of my niece Fiona was the best part of the year. Many great things happened, Rob started a new job, Scarlett lost those two teeth. We celebrated my grandmother’s 90th birthday. We flew to New Orleans and to Boston, at a time when I thought our airplane days were over. Even Otto sort of calmed down. But hard things happened, too. 2016 took with it, for example, my ability to wipe my own butt. It was the last year in which I could raise my arms. And that’s not even taking into account certain regrettable world events.
I’m choosing to focus on the positive as we enter this new year, each new day, or whatever timeframe I can currently wrap my head around. And I think if I did choose to make a resolution, it would be to keep finding what is funny about this life. There is a lot of material.
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Prayers for you Sarah. The little things we take for granted are something to be thankful for.
You are a beautiful soul.
“Like reaching into a still lake…”
You are a beautiful writer. THAT is a talent you most certainly have not lost.
Sarah, your writing is beautiful, I have a vision of you as you were in the brief time we worked together at Avalon. To say I admire you is a ridiculous understate- ment. I wish you many positive moments in 2017! YB
Yes, there is a lot of material. If you don’t laugh, you might never stop crying. And what good would it do anyway?
I read this to Matthew tonight. I had to read it twice because I can empathize with you, and also feel your husband’s enthusiasm for gummy boogers.
Fortunately, my fingers are small enough to dig for treasure and there is always a jackpot. Although, his are stringy and seem to snap back inside his head!
(OK, I’m sure your readers don’t need all this excitement passed around in the comments section as well!)
I am headed to San Fran with a friend next weekend to do some sight seeing.
If you feel up for awkward conversation with a virtual stranger, I’d love to meet you and your beautiful daughter.
(I’m even capable of helping with the nose dilemma… Like I said, small hands!)
In all seriousness though, hope you had a wonderful holiday, and we enjoyed today’s post!
Matthew and Theresa Wild
Just wanted to say that your writing inspires me to be a better person. Thank you for sharing some of your life with the world. May we all try to keep finding what is funny in this life. From a mom in Kansas Thanks
Sarah,
Your writing is wry, hilarious and exquisite – I love it ! I totally agree the main thing for us is to look for the humor that surrounds us. I just heard a thing on NPR about a musician who plays classical music amidst the ruins and bombs of Afghanistan. The people gather around and soak it up. Humor and beauty are here with us , although we may have to search and dig a bit for it!
All the above comments are true. I’m so proud you belong to us. Love always, N
I absolutely adore your writing and wish you blogged more (although I obviously get why you dont)
Thank you for being so open and eloquent with your words.
Be well …
Good job…You helped me laugh tonight..xxoo
Do u use a BiPap?
You bring me into your world. Your writing is amazing. I cry. I smile. I wish you well.
Happy New Year! Thank you.
Victoria
I too have ALS. I’m doing well, but I fear the future. I’m a widow, live alone, and soon will move in with my brother and his wonderful wife. But the thought of my sister-in-law doing what your husband does, seems impossible! We’ll see. I enjoy your blog.
Yes, I loved the analogy of trying to recall thoughts to the search for slippery fish. I recall in cillege, waking with what I thought the answer to my difficult math problem and writing it down. I woke in the AM to something about elephants and other nonsensicals! Thanks for telling us your outlook on how you deal. It makes me realize I must not procrastinate. I also loved the comment above about the musician playing classical amongst ruins and bombs and I realize that is when it is MOST beautiful, when we juxtapose it to the fears and tragedies in life. I read another blogger tell of how her best year was the last year her husband lived because she was the best she could ever be then. Today I watched a video of a toddler with Down Syndrome singing a sweet unknown religious song with fervor and so much expression and loved it more because of her extra chromosome and her difficulty but beauty with which she sang it. Your writing is more beautiful, your husband more wonderful, your daughter more cherished because of you. Peace.
Q-tips! They are great for picking another person’s nose and also sometimes good for your own.
Is it weird that while reading your lovely post I kept wanting to yell this out to the world?
Hey Sarah, have you heard of this scholarship for kids whose parents were diagnosed with ALS when they were in high school or college? There will be six $2500 scholarships. Please pass this along to people who may qualify <3 I don't know this family whose dad died of ALS btw I just came across it and wanted to make sure you knew about it & I know you know lots of people in the community. The deadline is in a few weeks.
https://www.cappex.com/scholarship/listings/Merfeld-Family-Foundation-Scholarship/-s-d-31411