Earlier today, as I drove home, listening to Elvis Costello’s “Brutal Youth,
I got nauseas.
You see, this tape (and yes, I listen to an audio cassette tape version of this album.) was my drive-time staple during the summer that I was pregnant.
I’d shout “Sulky Girl” at the top of my lungs, as my body succumbed to the terrible waves of morning sickness induced nausea.
And so, as I drove today, not at all pregnant, thank you very much,
I realized why these tunes were making my stomach flip and flop. It’s because I’m crazy.
Remember?
I’m a nut.
Like the time I thought I’d poisoned my nearly-fully-cooked fetus with some expired iced tea?
How about the myriad of other times that I’ve written about, my “crazy flag” waving high?
It’s OK. You can admit it. I won’t be offended.
I, generally, embrace my cray-cray.
It’s just who I am.
And today, as I heaved through “Thirteen Steps Lead Down”, I decided that it was about time for my crazy to be absolved of it’s bum rap.
Because guess what?
Even though some crazy is
well,
cray-zee,
other crazy can make life a little fun.
And, I hope that I’m always the kind of gal,
and the kind of mom who,
when my daughter asks me to eat ice cream for dinner, as a special treat,
or to dress up as a Princess, just to walk around the neighborhood,
or to dance around outside during a sudden rainstorm,
or to paint our nails all different colors,
or to stay up late, whispering secrets under the covers, even on the night before a big test,
that my answer is, forever, a resounding yes.
I know a mom kind of like that.
A mom who, when her 6 year old daughter got TWIN GIRL Magic Nursery Babies, was more excited than the little girl herself,
who let her children “earn back their privileges” with good behavior,
who thought that “Girled Cheese” was an appropriate meal 3 times a day,
who wants to be re-proposed to in the  Zooballoon,
who is the kindest, most loving, giving, beautiful mother there is.
Yeah, I know her kind of well.
And her kind of crazy is fine by me.
And really, my friends.
What in the world is better than love love love love crazy love ?
I’ll tell you.
Nothing is better.
Nothing at all.