Me at an early age being casual hanging out in boots and underwear.
Because my husband is a man of few words, because he’s a good judge of character because he loves me enough to tell me the whole truth, the real truth and nothing but the truth; I generally don’t ask him any direct questions about the character of my family or what one might call the nature of my family members.
Last night in a fit of self-discovery I did and he paused because he always thinks before he speaks, a trait I have yet to acquire, and this is what he said.
He said, “Really the truth of the matter; the real truth is that each family member is excessive in his or her own way. You all are so black and white, so extreme that the word manic comes to mind.”
Wait a second there pal did you just call the entire Suder tribe manic which means by the way, in my book, cuckoo.
“Becky”, he said casually because yes, he is a casual sort of guy and can call me cuckoo without a raised voice or throwing something,
“You just described something as dead to you…. it was a magazine. You once decided to run every day for 365 days straight. You are writing two children’s books, one memoir, and a collection of short stories all at the same time, you have thirty-two photo albums that you are constantly updating and organizing and you never lie down just because you’re a bit tired but you plan a nap five days before.
You say, ‘On Sunday I will take a nap’. That’s manic and the opposite of manic is casual; which you are not.”
At this point I start to get defensive “Well, there, pal, our kid thinks I’m pretty casual because I will drop whatever I am doing and head off for a day trip. Or take an impromptu bike ride or run five miles or decide to take up hip-hop.”
“Becky, mania is fun. Don’t be confused, manic people are a good time. It’s one reason why I married you but let’s be honest, you just don’t do casual.”
I realize it now that I have never ever in my life been casual. Ever.
I might not even know what it means and I decide to look it up in the dictionary Google search and a thesaurus. This is not, I know, casual…it is rather manic and his point, within six seconds, starts to sink in.
I take everything seriously, even having fun. If I am going out to have a good time well darn it, it’s going down – as my exhausted friends can tell you. We might end up in Mexico or dancing on the top of a bar. We might end up crawling across train tracks or riding bikes to Chicago.
I don’t always mind my mania. It means I do everything to the full extent …for at least five minutes. It means I take seriously the tasks I’m assigned but when I start thinking of my marriage or my raising a family as a task I’ve been assigned it seems like it might be a little hard to enjoy them, well, naturally or as they say casually.
Before my kids have no other mother to remember and before I give myself a heart attack at age fortyish, I’ve decided to become a little casual. I start with a list.
Number one: Relax.
Number two: Relax harder.
I’ll get back to you when I achieve casual but for your own safety, don’t hold your breath.
About Rebecca Suder