Not Up for "Gritty Realism" Anytime Soon

Lately I've had a couple of experiences with starting to read novels and then having to stop because I couldn't handle the language or content. This is actually new for me--as an English major who became a Master of Arts (I just can't resist, can I?) I've read lots of stuff--I thought I was pretty much desensitized. My sheltered literature students used to accuse me of making them read about nothing but death, adultery, and insanity, and being the hard-core academic I once was, I used to scoff at them.

Looking back at the novels I've closed up after only a chapter or two and returned to the library (one of them even had a sticker that said "Oprah's Book Club"--what a literary whimp I've become!), I noticed they had something in common: both had the phrase "gritty realism" in the promotional material displayed on the back cover. I guess I just can't handle grit anymore. Or realism, either.

I have to blame it on becoming a mom. My world has changed. I think watching Wiggles videos and reading books about how bees make honey has made grit seem extra gritty and realism seem too dark. Let me provide a few examples of the variety of reality I can (almost) handle these days.

I took Benjamin to the bank today (to deposit the coins from his piggy bank he had helped me roll) and he informed the teller that he is saving up for his "next trip to Disneyland"--weren't we just there?? I guess we better start looking for flights--he's already got $63.00!

 

I took Janae shoe shopping yesterday while Ben was at school. Just one little two-year-old--I should be able to handle that, right? Maybe if I was still eating sugar. As it was, I'm lucky we both didn't get asked to leave the store (with all the screaming and wrestling . . . and all the shoes off the shelves). I say lucky, because Janae got the most adorable little white flats to match her new spring dress.

 

Have I mentioned Janae and her potty training lately? As you can see, she is still wearing her "big girl undies"--only on top of a diaper. Yes, we've gone back to diapers. She can only wear a Pull-Up for about 10 minutes before it's wet--and Janae anounces that she's got a "poopy diaper." Her antics on the potty have resulted in more time outs than I can count. I guess my counting skills are going downhill, too.

 

And then there was the little balloon rescue mission this morning. I was looking up some activities for Sharing Time when Ben and Janae somehow detatched Janae's princess balloon from its string . . . and the weight that was holding it down. Ben asked and asked for help, but I kept using that good old mothering phrase, "Just a minute!" When I entered the living room, I saw Ben had taken matters into his own hands. I don't know why I just stood there taking a picture--perhaps my good judgement is also impaired?

 

Anyway, the point of all this is that I've become quite domesticated over the past few years--I've lost most of my competitiveness, my critical thinking skills, my feminist anger, my academic edge. It's actually quite a peaceful way of life. I just hope I can't be stripped of my master's degree for this!