Monday, May 4, 2009

I just love that song

Channel your best Jimmy Durante -that's the only way to do it - and then 'doon doon' the piano parts and away you go....

It's so important to make someone happy. Make just one someone happy. Make just one heart to heart you, you sing to. One smile that cheers you. One face that lights when it nears you. One girl you're - you're everything to.

Fame, if you win it, comes and goes in a minute. Where's the real stuff in life, to cling to? Love is the answer. Someone to love is the answer. Once you've found her, build your world around her. Make someone happy. Make just one someone happy. And you will be happy too.

Here's the thing, though. I'm not knockin' it. I love the tune, I truly do. But man, oh, man. It's not that easy, is it? It sounds swell, to use the vernacular of the original penner, but the execution is just near-impossible. I'm trying and I can tell you - but you already know - to make someone happy is some serious business.

I suppose it would be exponentially less difficult if you only had one person to make happy. Ever. That, I probably could do. But the thing is, I think I'm addicted to trying to make others happy. Not others like, my immediate family. Or even others, like, my extended family. I've spread myself out beyond the family and friends circle into the wider community and, when I've had that extra cup, the world at large! Verizon got that whole idea from me.

When I visualize it, I feel like I'm like a bad wind-up toy that doesn't run out. Bzzzzzzzz.... Time to wake up babies......bzzzzzzzz.... Here are your lunches, no mayo for you Sara, no crust for you Lucy, double of everything for you Sam....bzzzzzzzz.... Here's your coffee, honey......bzzzzzzzz.... Forgot your book, sweetheart ....bzzzzzzzz.... PTA needs volunteers? I'll get right on that ....bzzzzzzzz.... You need me to cover phones at work? I'm your gal ....bzzzzzzzz.... What mom? Not getting enough attention. I'm on that too ....bzzzzzzzz.... You need a gift for your husband and can't afford to get him what he wants? Let me see what I can do! ....bzzzzzzzz....

Is all that really necessary?

Of course not. My husband doesn't even drink coffee, really. I just make it every day and hand him a cup. He's tired of telling me he doesn't want any, so he just takes it, savors one sip for my benefit, then leaves it on the counter. I've even manufactured a way of making his cup different from mine, so I can say 'Made it just the way you like it.' Seriously? What kind of crazy is that?

What's worse is, I have these episodes (like today) where I sense I'm going overboard and try to self-correct. But then I lurch backward in such awkward fashion that I end up offending someone or causing myself some sort of real physical injury. (I cut my toe once trying to avoid someone on the street so I wouldn't have to say 'no' to her. It hurt. Alot.) The fact is, the trauma of separating myself from my obsessive 'helping' is almost as, if not moreso, damaging than the OCD assistance itself.

Even worse than that? My husband has gotten ratcheted so far down on the list he's taken to reading self-awareness books to figure out how he can recapture my attention. The truth is - and this is the real truth, not some Seinfeld gag - it's not him - it's me! And even worse than that? I love him. Love him love him love him. Want to be a good wife, be interested, be affectionate and romantic. But by the time its 'our time' at 9 p.m. and I spend an extra few minutes writing this self-indulgent drivel, I'm so used up you'd just as well put a wax 'as is' tag on my forehead and trot me out of the showroom to the corner of the outdoor lot.

And all the while, I'm not so sure the manic 'making people happy' thing is actually having the desired effect. My tweenie is never quite happy anymore because she's... well... tweenie. My son is never quite happy because he is the human incarnation of Charlie Brown. Good grief. And my youngest daughter is always happy and always will be no matter what I do because... she doesn't know any better. My neighborhood is what it is either with or without me. My community knows me and, if it sees me coming, smiles wanly and walks briskly by. The people at work are afraid of me because of my chronic niceness. (Realtors think its a sign of mental disorder or evidence of KGB-like tactical planning. Either way it's bad in Realtorland.) People at the kids' school are avoiding me, literally averting their eyes. It'd be funny if I wasn't so busy chasing them down to insist on their attention. On second thought, that probably is funny for others.

So when I reflect, I feel like the human equivalent of a silly string party after everyone's spent. Fun while it lasts, but afterwards, the whole thing is a mess. I wish I could stop trying to please. I wish I could leave the dishes and ignore the call for help and act like a moron when they try to show me how to put a call on hold. I wish I could leave my kids with a sitter and flutter out like a butterfly for an evening out with my husband and never look back. I wish I could.

The thing is, it is so important to make someone happy. Doon Doon. Doon Doon.

1 comment:

  1. You're right about the coffee thing. I mean I like it, but I don't need it or am intrested in adding anything to your already hectic day. In any event, I appreciate you and understand you and you can count on me picking up the slack if you lay up a little on your obligations. :)