When my adult son was starting high school, he was into some shenanigans. I didn’t catch him red handed in anything, but I recognized some things from my own youth. I suspected he was raiding my liquor cabinet.
For the record, my liquor cabinet was a shelf in the pantry with a few bottles of booze. I didn’t drink much then (and I drink even less now) so I dumped all the booze down the sink and threw away the bottles. Except for one.
I refilled the Popov Vodka bottle with water and returned it to the shelf, hoping to trip up my son.
I forgot about my stunt and eventually threw away the vodka bottle, thinking my son hadn’t fallen for it. But a few months ago, more than ten years after I’d done it, my son reported that he brought the vodka bottle to a party and took a swig, realizing that I had foiled his little plan.
I’d love to think he did a spit-take, spraying water across his friends, yelling, “What is this? Poison?”
I’m guessing he just shook his head, thinking me an idiot at the time because this didn’t solve the shenanigans problem. Not even close. But it was nice to hear because, at least in that moment, he knew I cared enough about him to mess up his party plans.
When this memory surfaced, my wife and I chuckled, and kicked around a few other memories it surfaced. There are tens of thousands of moments like that, dealing with this problem, or that conflict, or yet another situation, that happen when raising children to adulthood, and each one is front-and-center in the moment, then quickly fades away as the next moments steps into the spotlight.
Here we are, lost in the woods, with either a cute dog or a hairy baby.
A few weeks ago, an acquaintance—struggling with raising a two-year old—wondered how people do it: how do you deal with all the stuff that being a parent requires when you have no idea what is best for your child and what will allow you to keeps some semblance of what you imagined your life would be like. I said:
“Parenting is like being out on the ocean on a paddleboard and a rogue wave sweeps you out to sea. Maybe your spouse is out there with you, maybe not, but the wave keeps rolling and within seconds you realize there’s no chance to go back to shore because the wave just won’t let you go. You spend all your time trying to keep your balance, fighting wind and storms to stay above water. The next thing you know, you wash up on the beach on the other side of the ocean. Twenty or more years have gone by.
You look back across the expanse of water, and wonder, was that it?”
If you’re lucky, your spouse lands nearby. “Where are we?” they ask.
You shrug. “What do we do now?”
Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…
After an arduous month or so, I’ve got my psychological thriller redesigned and ready to rewrite, but I took a break from novel length stuff to pursue a short story that had been on my list for quite a while. This pivot was from a desire to write something funny, and have it out there, while I take on the much longer effort of drafting a novel.
It’s called “Marvin and the Blue Djin.” Of course, once I researched why I thought a “Blue Djin” even existed, it turns out I heard about it in the sitcom “I Dream of Jeannie.”
I swear, 80% of my knowledge is sitcom-based.
Maybe You’d Like
This week, I’m in a promotion of sci-fi and speculative books called Beyond Imagination. This is your chance to judge a book by its cover, and see if there’s anything you’d like to read!
Next Picayune
The next Picayune will be in June when, if we don’t catch COVID, we’ll be visiting Portland, OR.
Thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune.
All the best,
–mickey
P.S. If check out the group promo…, let me know which covers you liked best. I’m really curious because covers start the marketing process, and they’re really hard to do well.