Philosophy (or The Closest Thing I Have To It....)

I've been asking lots of questions lately. Big ones, like the kind you ask when you're 85 years old and looking back over your life. Like on The Bucket List. What goals should we really have for our children? I'm pretty sure getting rich and being able to financially maintain blond highlights and sip lattes isn't it. And say we're able to personally affect entire towns in 3rd world countries--so that they can maintain the highlights and sip the lattes. Does that make sense? Did we help at all? Should I switch jobs to a school where the kids have more needs, or in a disadvantaged area? Adoption--is it an option? Should we move out to the country? What about....? blah, blah, blah. Just restless. The kind of restless you only seem to get if you're related to me. The kind of restless where sometimes you run out of walls to paint, God seems totally quiet, and you still haven't figured anything out.

I got to hang out with my baby brother this weekend. He is such a treat. He is 10 years younger than I am (22), but when he introduces himself, he'll tell you that he's somewhat of a dinosaur. Like an old college professor--but not old. He has a way of saying 3 pages worth of stuff in about 2 sentences. Like Yoda. Or a Chinese fortune cookie. It's strangely fitting and totally out of character all at once that he's going to be a lawyer.

Saturday, he and I took Kaela and Ben to the beach by my parents' house. The kids were playing on the swingset and splashing in the water, and David starts talking about how he can't wait to have kids and be a lawyer. And I'm all like, "OK, so then you have a good law practice. Then what? What are you going to spend your money on? What is the American dream when you grew up the way we did and you know the value of small things? What values do you want your kids to have? And how do you go about instilling them?"

And David, in his wise, succinct way, rubbed his chin and looked at me and drawled in his low, slow accent, "Wow. Sounds like some sort of midlife crisis s*&$. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go in with me financially and open a bar."

And I got to chuckling. And he started laughing. And before long, we're on the beach totally guffawing, because NO, we don't want to go in and buy a bar with you, and shoot, if I'm on my first midlife crisis at 32, how many more do I get to have before I die? and the tears are running down our cheeks, and life seems simple again.

We brushed the sand off my children, took them to Grammy and Pop's for some homemade pumpkin pie, and played the piano so loudly that Pop had to turn the TV up old-man style just to hear his show. And we were still giddy. Because sometimes you don't need the answers all in one day. Sometimes it's enough just to laugh! :-)