I love the tone of Portlandia and Modern Family. I am seeing my life through the comedy lens this morning and laughing at myself and my life. I make things so serious, but really they aren't. My comedy is called Benderama. (Thanks Cathy!)
In Benderama, I think I'm an empty-nester, with all this free time and doing all these grown up things I never got to do before. But really I'm a harried full-time worker and a hovering helicopter mom with three grown up kids whom I still sometimes treat like babies.
Example: I say my kids are grown up and out of the house, but two of them live in the studio next door. I sometimes sneak in and pick up their dirty dishes, and when no one is looking, make Ian's bed. I still want to cradle my gigantic son in my arms and play with his hair. Sometimes he lets me.
In Benderama, Joe and I are super liberated and independent and think of each other as lovers and have our separate lives. But we are also a married couple who have been together for 26 years and can interpret the tiniest thing about each other without words.
Example: We can be in bed together in the middle of the night and I hear a change in his breathing. It's subtle, but I can tell he's awake and I know exactly what he's thinking. We can go from being relaxed asleep into a full blown co-counseling session crying about childhood traumas, then go right back to sleep again, all cozy and shit.
In Benderama, we think of ourselves as, like, in our thirties, still kind of young and cool and sexy. But really, we are in our fifties. We are not really cool anymore. We are the old people.
Example: We live on a floor with mostly 20 somethings. We say we do not want to be the parents. We say "You all are in charge!" But I will get up like I did last night at 1:30am and walk out to the common kitchen in my nightgown, with my eyeshade pushed up onto my forehead and one earplug in my hand and just stare at them. They know what that means.
The truth is that I am an fifty-something empty-nester helicopter mom in an alternative long-term marriage who often acts like I'm in my thirties but does not hesitate to pull the age card when I need to. That's the gist of Benderama.
In Benderama, I think I'm an empty-nester, with all this free time and doing all these grown up things I never got to do before. But really I'm a harried full-time worker and a hovering helicopter mom with three grown up kids whom I still sometimes treat like babies.
Example: I say my kids are grown up and out of the house, but two of them live in the studio next door. I sometimes sneak in and pick up their dirty dishes, and when no one is looking, make Ian's bed. I still want to cradle my gigantic son in my arms and play with his hair. Sometimes he lets me.
In Benderama, Joe and I are super liberated and independent and think of each other as lovers and have our separate lives. But we are also a married couple who have been together for 26 years and can interpret the tiniest thing about each other without words.
Example: We can be in bed together in the middle of the night and I hear a change in his breathing. It's subtle, but I can tell he's awake and I know exactly what he's thinking. We can go from being relaxed asleep into a full blown co-counseling session crying about childhood traumas, then go right back to sleep again, all cozy and shit.
In Benderama, we think of ourselves as, like, in our thirties, still kind of young and cool and sexy. But really, we are in our fifties. We are not really cool anymore. We are the old people.
Example: We live on a floor with mostly 20 somethings. We say we do not want to be the parents. We say "You all are in charge!" But I will get up like I did last night at 1:30am and walk out to the common kitchen in my nightgown, with my eyeshade pushed up onto my forehead and one earplug in my hand and just stare at them. They know what that means.
The truth is that I am an fifty-something empty-nester helicopter mom in an alternative long-term marriage who often acts like I'm in my thirties but does not hesitate to pull the age card when I need to. That's the gist of Benderama.
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