Star-Jumping the Shark

A lot of people say to me “With three kids, how do you manage to write anything at all, let alone six days a week?” These people have obviously never done the white glove test on my house else they wouldn’t have to ask. However, I usually indulge them by claiming to take the Brangelina approach to parenting and employ a nanny, housekeeper, chauffeur, naturopath and astrologist for each child. And between us all, we still can’t find a matching pair of socks or even the kids’ shoes in this house. Honestly, you just can’t get the staff these days. 

“But come on, NDM”, I hear those people say. “What is your secret? Tell us. Tell us!” Okay, okay, calm down, I say. And stop kissing my feet. (Can you tell this conversation occurred entirely in my head yet?) The truth is almost too dull to share but here it is: I write in fits and starts throughout the day, usually with children climbing all over me or with food cooking on the stove – or even both. As long as I don’t get confused and cook the children by mistake, I can just about manage it. And every day, I thank the universe for the Miracle of Wireless Internet, without which I would be stuck typing in the dark front bedroom while my children roamed around the rest of the house completely unsupervised, quite possibly with sharp scissors in their little hands.

I have often wondered if I didn’t have three children hanging off me half the time what lofty heights I might reach with my writing. But then, what the hell would I have to write about? It’s just soooooo 1985 when I got my first job at McDonalds and had to buy the uniform to work at McDonalds to earn the money to buy the uniform to work at McDonalds… etc, etc. Ah, the irony! The irony! 23 years on, it’s still not lost on me. 

When I started this blog, my husband made me promise one thing and one thing alone: that I never use the term “jump the shark” because, according to him, it had descended into the realms of cliché. (If you’ve never heard the term – as one friend of mine hadn’t – here’s a link to the Wikipedia definition of To Jump the Shark full of fun facts, such as how actor Ted McGinley is known as “The Patron Saint of Jumping the Shark” because of his uncanny knack of joining the cast of shows like “Happy Days” and “West Wing” just as they were starting to get a little bit on the nose).

This post marks my 50th on this blog site and it’s about time I donned my leather jacket and waterskis and star-jumped that shark, don’t you think? Some might argue I already jumped it around post #24, when I slipped in the second “Deliverance” reference in as many weeks (according to my ever-knowledgable husband, blog etiquette dictates that you’re only allowed one every two years). Others might have seen the writing on the wall by the fact I’d used that old star-jump joke again so soon after the last time (see “Kicking the Habit“) – and in the title of this post no less. I’ll have to concede that its re-appearance might be a warning sign of sorts – just like when Tiddles stands behind the armchair and looks really cross shortly before he does himself a big ol’ back-sliding poo. 

In any case, here I am – about to Officially Jump It. What will be on the other side? Indiscriminate usage of smiley faces, and animated ones at that?  Maybe cop-out posts where I just link to those YouTube clips doing the internet rounds, showing stuff like someone pull a whole string of spaghetti out their nose? Or perhaps I’ll just rehash old posts, much like those Flashback epsiodes from 70s sitcoms where the main characters stand around saying stuff like “Remember when…” and “What about the time we…”. Then again, I could just get old Ted McGinley to guest-write a column to seal my fate once and for all. It would be the humane thing to do. 

Whatever happens, it will be interesting to see what I’m churning out in another 50 posts’ time, especially since I’m on the verge of re-entering the workforce in a part-time capacity (ooooh, I kept that one to myself didn’t I?).  And as for jumping the shark, I think we should all stop to remember that Happy Days still went on to spurn “Joanie loves Chachi”, which was at least memorable if only because it was so very very awful.  And in any case, urban legend has it that “Joanie loves Chachi” was the highest ever rating program in Korea because “chachi” means penis in Korean. And for those very same reasons, no matter what I go on to write, I’ll still be getting hits on my blog site from people searching for “lactating asian babes” for many, many years to come. So there.