Laughing about Normal

There's this word.  I have a deep love/hate relationship.  Normal.  I understand the necessity of it. To explain what the average is for comparative purposes.  But I also sometimes see it as an enemy (something I'm working on).  Normal defines what is acceptable.  Normal tells us what should and in reality, shouldn't be.  Normal is ok.  Abnormal is not.  Right?  Right???

Here's the beauty of that word-the other side of the coin, if you will.  It's a word that can change.  A word that takes on new meaning depending on the user.

My family-brothers, sisters, mom, dad.  We had a "normal" childhood.  Or so I thought.  We grew up on an acreage, growing our own food, playing in the "wild", and working together to make the family flow.  It wasn't until I got to junior high and beyond that I learned that actually, no, most people do not burn their trash in a gigantic burn pile.  Most people don't bake their own bread every week and preserve their own food for the winter.

What was normal in our family was certainly not going to be so to the family down the street. Take for instance, raisins. Growing up, we loved raisins. We loved raisins so much, we would eat 'em in our turkey noodle soup. Yep, big fat raisins all plumped up with turkey broth and salt. Delicious!  Depression throwback handed down by previous generations?  Most likely, but who cares!?  It tastes wonderful!

But to my best friend in junior high and the rest of the known world, raisins in turkey soup wasn't right. It isn't normal.

Normal is an incredibly subjective, relative word.  Meaning dependent upon the perception of the user.

So it goes with what most people consider "normal" appearances. We have a set of societal norms that say what is and isn't "normal".  Society sets the standards.  And society is incredibly fickle and too often, unkind.

To the average observer, simply taking a brief glimpse at A would lead them to believe she looks nothing like her siblings. Looking nothing like your siblings isn't in and of itself, unusual. But when you're looking for anything to mark you as one of the tribe and finding very little-it's disheartening.

So for the average observer, taking no more than a brief look, to say that A doesn't look like her siblings, they would by all accounts, be right. This is our normal.

All it takes is to spend twenty minutes with our family and there is no question that we share a whole lot of DNA. She scowls like her brother.  She has the same mischievous side glance as her sister. She inherited, bless her heart, my insane curly/wavy hair.  And her joy for life is so, so like her Daddy.

And my favorite-their sense of humor.  These kids share the same silly, clever, off-beat sense of humor. With that same sense of humor comes their laugh. A deep, resonating belly laugh that catches them at the most unexpected moments. Full, bubbling, and without abandon.

Normal?  Not us.  Not ever.  Or at least, none other but our own version.