Thursday, November 14, 2013

Love. Ish.

Like most things trendy, I am a few years behind on this one:
The suffix: Ish.
As in, "I'll be there at 9. Ish." Or, "My car is clean. Ish." Oh, and, "Here's the money I owe you. Ish."
It's even better with just the right amount of pause before you pounce on the ish.
And said in the snarkiest way possible, it punches just like I prefer: a lick of control with flippant play.
I boasted of my love of the suffix to my husband tonight. But unbeknownst to me, The Children were still awake in their too-close-to-the-dining-room bunk beds.
"What is Ish?"
"Go to sleep."
"Really. Tellllll meeeee pleeeeeaasssse."
"It just means kind of sort of like shake-your-head-side-to-side medium not sure...ish."
"I need to understand Ish!"
"No. You don't. Goodnight."
"Pleeeeaaassse!!! Ish."
"Good night! I love you. Goodnight."
"I love you too. Ish."
And. Nothing entices me to tell the truth like a bad example.
I tried to explain. But this medium territory may be too abstract for a newly 7-year old. I tried again and again. I did. I gave lots of mediocre examples. To no avail.
So now I'll be stuck with an illogical echo that respects no boundaries...

Yet I realized--in humility--that to turn things like this upside down is much more interesting. And (like kids often do) my son yanked me closer to a truth. If nothing else, it will be Children who will snap us out of our Rational Delusions and point us to the reality that we can't see because we are too busy showing them what we think is truth.
Because, really, this does make more sense than the convenient Ish. And though I was born in convenience, I am slowly warming up to upside down irrational makes no sense kind of love. Ish.
I love. Ish. I mother. Ish. I work. Ish. I am lost. Ish. I know nothing. Ish. I write. Ish. I try. Ish.

Peace. Ish.