Poo poo poo

See, I want to write all this effusive stuff about Kathleen because it’s our wedding anniversary today. We’ve been together eleven years and I want to write about how much she means to me and how I wouldn’t be able to get through days without her, and how my life only makes sense when I’m with her.

But I’m having real trouble doing so and for a while I wasn’t sure why. I mean, normally writing about stuff isn’t difficult for me at all. It’s kind of, y’know…my thing. But I found myself stymied, and especially after reading her lengthy testament to me over on her own blog. Why would I have trouble with writer’s block over something like this?

After giving it some thought, I think I’ve determined why.

I think it’s because I’m Jewish.

See, here’s the thing: as one would expect from a people whose biggest holiday involves spending three hours in synagogue apologizing for sins while not eating, and whose country has been under siege pretty much non-stop from the day they hung up the “Open For Business” sign, we have a knee-jerk tendency to (as Mel Brooks notably wrote) hope for the best but expect the worst. This is so ingrained that if someone shows off their newborn infant, and you say “What a beautiful baby” within earshot of your great grandmother, she will immediately say “Poo poo poo.” Complimenting a baby, according to tradition, risks attracting the attention of the Evil Eye,which abominates beautiful children and will do horrible things, up to and including taking the child in its sleep. So either you say, “What an ugly baby” to make sure the Evil Eye doesn’t notice, or else–if someone should thoughtlessly say something flattering, say “poo poo poo” to ward off the Evil Eye. (Hence the lasting popularity of A.A. Milne’s work in Jewish families.)

So I now realize the reason I internally flinch at the prospect of talking about how happy I am, and how wonderful and patient and loving and caring and giving Kathleen is. How wonderful she has been not only as a constant, dependable and steady maternal presence for my three older girls, but also how much joy I feel for the beautiful (poo poo poo) youngest daughter she gave me nine years ago. Because if I talk about all that, I can’t shake the fear that the Evil Eye will be reading this blog and say, “Challenge accepted!”

So instead I will simply confine myself to saying that I love her and can’t imagine life without her.

Poo poo poo.

PAD