Please understand, I don't want to offend anyone with that line. But it's true. If irony left us with the turn of the century, as some say, then we were the poster family for it in the late 1990s.
If irony did not exist, why else would we have three kids who are the same age for 16 days each year? Why would it happen within the first two years of our getting married? And why would all four of my children be born in the month of December?
When people saw us struggling to manage a toddler, two baby carriers, and a then 6-year-old at the same time, they confirmed God's role in everything. Rarely did we have a conversation without one of these three phrases, all of which managed to invoke the supreme being who resides in life's penthouse suite:
- Oh, my God.
- God bless you.
- Thank God it's not me.
We've heard everything, from sophomoric to sympathetic. My favorite was about Ben and Emma: "Awww... They're twins. Are they identical?" Somehow I always managed to avoid asking back, "Have you changed a diaper recently?"
But I digress.
The point of this is that irony persists in our lives, as does proof that God's sense of humor remains pretty much intact. For example, this year on the week of Christ's birth, we will have one child in New York while our girls are in Orlando performing in a "Frosty Follies" revue at Disney World. And that will be just after the oldest finishes two plays in North Carolina.
How is that not irony, or some higher order's way of having a small laugh at our parenting expense?
Not that it's a bad thing. Far from it, in fact. We are very lucky that our children are healthy, talented, and smart, and that we are in the position to give them opportunities to have fun and be successful. And we're very fortunate to have a strong faith, especially given that it is so battle tested.
The next time God chooses to be a stand up comedian for a day, however, I wish he would look elsewhere.
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