Funny Mummy

marvel at how nothing in the world has hurt her yet. I have a whole lifetime to fuck her up. I should pace myself; I think.

Now that’s not to say that doing so is easy. Many times it’s really, really hard, but I remind myself that me being comfortable in that room is absolutely trumped by the need to be there for the child and the family. Shutting down your emotions means shutting down your connection.

And at the risk of sounding like a Boho cushion from Kmart: Life is short. Laugh hard.

I love comedy for sure. But is ‘doing what you love’ really the ultimate pursuit in life as we’re constantly told? I’m not sure. All I know is that I want to feel the sense of purpose that I felt while I was looking after my mother in the final chapter of her life.

It’s watching your peers without kids do all the festivals, all the touring and all the moving cities to grasp their careers with both hands, while you’re scouring the house to find a coloured shirt for ‘orange day’.

As time drifts on and on, and Mum drifts in and out, I keep thinking about how I’ve spent my entire life trying so damn hard to make a mark, to create a legacy of work to leave behind so that if and when I am the one to suddenly depart this earth, I will at least be remembered.

watch a doco on Billy Crystal, who recounted a moment early in his career when he and his new agent went to a stand-up comedy night and watched a guy slay (Note to non-comedy folks: ‘Slay’ is good. Very good.) Afterwards, Billy turned to his agent and commented on how great that was. ‘Yeah,’ said the agent, ‘but he didn’t leave a tip.’ ‘Huh?’ said

Dancing like nobody is watching. Especially when the kids are watching. And their friends are over.

Comedy is pain relief.