Number two
Have I ever explained how I play catch with Uncle Rico?
You know, Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite. The once almost football hero that lives in a trailer on the edge of town, reliving his glory days over, and over, and over… Yeah. I play catch with him—metaphorically speaking, of course. In fact, most of my whole life has been about playing catch with him.
I knew, even as a child, that I was a supporting actor in the movie of my life. Every race I ran, I came in second. No joke. First the whole way, until those last 20 feet, when the true winner, inspired my crazy-fast pace, would kick it up a notch because he refused to lose to a girl.
As a child I dreamed of presenting awards at the Oscars. Not winning an Oscar, mind you– but announcing the winners. Tearing the envelope, et al. Somebody has to, right?
Go back and watch those movies from the ’80s. There is the hot chick that all the dudes desire– and then there is the snarky, best friend wearing the hat, and her name almost always is “Tracy” (spelled wrong, even). I am that hat-wearing friend.
Of course you’ve probably forgotten about that character– even though she’s in every single movie. She’s a one-off. She’s a bit annoying. She’s kind of boyish. And she always ends up shrugging in the background and running off with some guy who is too geeky for the leading actress.
She is me. She is every moment of my whole life.
Why am I telling you this? Because you need to know.
You can’t have lame ’80s movies without the quirky girlfriend.
You can’t have races without a second place finisher.
Somebody has to be that awesome.
And see, I while I am not at the top, I’ve accepted that I can’t ever be at the top. My life is– by the design of the gods–to be sitting on the sidelines with Uncle Rico. That’s what motherhood is, after all: sitting on the sidelines, helping your kids move through life, making sure their clothes are ironed and their teeth are brushed. Setting them up for success.
You can’t ignore me either, Michael, your wife who appears rarely in the film while you stare at your lover’s boiling rabbit in the pot. I’m the one who gives you the idea to go on the journey where you fall in love with the hero. I’m the one who makes the offhand comment over fries and a coke in the hospital cafeteria, which is the clue that unravels the deeper mystery.
Yes. I may be small and hat wearing and quirky, and my jokes may be mere echoes in the distance… But let’s face it: You can’t move the plot forward without me.
Awesome.
