Live and LOL

It is lovely to be silly at the right moment.
Horace

Be silly. You're allowed to be silly. 
There's nothing wrong with it.
Jimmy Fallon

One thing I’ve always wanted to be (besides a singer) is … silly.

Having spent years in a decidedly un-funny relationship, scared and constantly criticized, I studied others around me to determine the “correct” response or reaction. But, in general, I took – and still take – everything way too seriously.  

And despite years of being told otherwise by an unkind person that I regarded far too highly, I know now – well, maybe “am fairly certain now” is more accurate – that I do indeed have a sense of humor. And I know that I enjoy making people smile and laugh.

That part I get. It’s other people’s humor – whether in a movie or in person – that I have to allow myself to let go and react to. It’s still hard work for me.

I know – I’m a bit weird this way.

**

As a child, I remember feeling like a little adult. Adults praised my maturity. But as an adult, I’ve often wished I could find my inner child and let her play.

I listen for her voice. I imagine she is giddy. I imagine she has a great imagination. I imagine she still cracks up at elephant jokes. I imagine she is fearlessly fun.

I desperately hope she doesn’t approach life as tentatively as I do. I want her to do cartwheels down hill, laugh at squirrels scampering along fences, kick higher on the tree swings, and sing unabashedly to the stars – because why not?

I don’t want her to live looking over her shoulder, trying to appease or protect others, hiding from loud voices. I don’t want her to wince when someone yells. I don’t want her to run from shadows in the dark.

**

When I became a parent, I took stock of how I wished my children would take after me and how I even more desperately wished they wouldn’t. How do I give my children something that I am not?

My main goals: A fearlessness of humor and of spiders. (More on spiders next week…)

It wasn’t until my girls and I started our lives over that I realized that as much as I had tried before to give them laughter, I couldn’t. As children are wont to be, my girls were too clever and too watchful. Being silly was not the easy option.

And then we had a second chance. And slowly but somehow suddenly, I heard laughter. Regularly. Often. My own. My daughters’.

What a sound! They were making me laugh with their laughter.

And I discovered the secret: The freedom to laugh comes with the freedom to live.

I hadn’t had that basic of all freedoms in so very long. I had forgotten. And, over time, they had stifled theirs.

And I learned something else with certainty: My decision to leave that relationship was the right decision for us. I have given them back their laughter (or they rediscovered it on their own) and, along with it, a lesson about life that we will always talk about as they grow old enough to make more decisions without me.

Nowadays, I laugh at the exit signs that I ignored along the way. And I laugh at the jokes my girls share with me now.

And I am not as scared to be silly.

It’s just me. And it’s just them saying, “Oh, Mom!” as they laugh at me and with me.

**

Oh, and one more discovery: I love to sing.

Out loud.
To the stars.
Even when it’s cloudy.

~~/~~ 

About the author: Kat Rowan is a humble, forever-learning parent of 2 daughters who are often (willing) subjects of her posts about communicating and connecting without the distractions of pings, rings, and dings and the interruptions of tunes and tones. As CEO and Creative Director of TiffinTalk Inc, Kat's message focuses on the need to take time daily to "Tech Off. Talk On" by encouraging face-to-face conversations. It's a whole new view of a timeless practice. Please visit my profile to connect with me on LinkedIn and follow me on Twitter @TiffinTalk_net and #techofftalkon.