Friday, March 8, 2013
I confess: I never thought I'd share a video on MaMe Musings' page that begins with a shot of Megan Fox's boobies. (You're welcome, honey).
I confess: every time I thought about writing this post (which was really supposed to be another tale in the potty training saga), I kept thinking about this movie, This is 40.
I confess: I am about to digress...
I confess: Marty and I recently (in the last 6 months is still recent in our world), Marty and I went to see this movie on date night.
I confess: we picked this movie because we wanted to escape reality for a little while and laugh. It's a sort-of sequel to Knocked Up, so it had to be funny, right?
I confess: it wasn't funny. I actually cried at one point (and not those "laughing so hard I cried" tears).
I confess: I was not prepared for a movie about aging, marital dysfunction, and whining about first-world problems. It hit way too close to home.
I confess: While I have never lied about my age, I saw a bit of myself in Leslie Mann's character as she mourns getting older. Even though I am a few birthdays away from 40, I can relate to the feeling that "we're going blink and be 90." (I am not confessing to closet-smoking with a plastic glove, although, ten years ago, I could have so seen myself doing it).
I confess: I saw myself in her obsessions over gluten, the over-use of electronics, the endless self-improvement lists. (I can't confess, however, to be motivated enough to hire a ruthless personal trainer).
I confess: I saw us in the dysfunction of their marriage: a marriage where communication often has to be scheduled, where money talks often become money arguments, where privacy is nonexistent, where work sucks, where the wife badgers the husband over his unhealthy habits, where the husband complains, "You get so mad," where couple time is limited to a rare, stolen weekend away where you realize why you ever got married in the first place. (I won't confess, however, to relating to the part of imagining the ways I might kill my husband. I confess, instead, to imagining how I might end up on an island where there are no husbands).
I confess: It left me not wanting to be that way.
I confess: I know I have strayed so far away from the potty story. Where's the potty, you're probably wondering...
In one scene in the movie, Paul Rudd's character sequesters himself in the bathroom on his i-pad and Words with Friends while he takes care of business. His wife opens the door and demands to know what's going on since he's been in the bathroom for 20 minutes.
I confess: I did laugh at this part of the movie because I have done the same thing to Marty--except he's usually playing Scramble or this stupid war game.
I confess: Apparently, I am not too worried about electronic devices or teaching the kids to take 20 minutes to use the bathroom because, this week, as an incentive to use the potty, we gave both kids our i-phones as they used the potty. Picture two kids, two potties, side-by-side, on two phones, playing the "memer" game.
I confess: I don't feel guilty because guess what? It worked.
This is...our life.