Jedi Mama, Explained

Back in my day (and I really never dreamed that I’d actually reach an age where I could type that particular phrase), technology was limited, and the “Age of Information” was a whole lot younger. We didn’t have the Internet, so we were forced to use the encyclopedias at the public library, because no one had visited our house on a door-to-door sales mission to see if we wanted to buy the A through Z volumes, bound in faux leather and imprinted in gold lettering.

So clearly, although we had cassette tapes of Def Leppard and Rick Springfield (which I played and rewound so many times, they actually wore out), no one had a blog.

But now days, it appears that everyone has a blog, and so, in trying to keep up with technology, I’ve finally decided to take the rowboat out to the big blog ship and get on board. Of course, the older I get, the more I have come to terms with the fact that I believe I have adult-onset ADD. Ultimately this means that I have a difficult time holding onto thoughts for longer than 52 seconds at a time, at which point they sail right out of my pretty little head with the carbon dioxide and leave me with a pleasant, but completely empty, feeling. Because of this syndrome, I have no idea whether or not I’ll even remember that I have a blog, and that I should be posting to it on a regular basis, but I do promise to give it my best shot.

And I know that some of you will ask, “Why the title? Why Jedi Mama?”

Why?

Because the amount of Star Wars that is re-enacted at our house is often overwhelming and leaves me wondering if I have been transported to the Death Star after all. If Light Saber Duals were an Olympic sport, the boy (our resident 9-year-old) would be a gold medal holder, several times over. Michael Phelps would have nothing on him. The boy would need a wheelbarrow to carry all the gold around in.

When we brought that small bundle of joy home from the hospital, I never dreamed that he would eventually bring me to a point in my life where I could tell you the name of Boba Fett’s ship. In fact, I admit that I had no premonitions that I’d actually even know who Boba Fett was, let alone be able to pick him out of a line up of motley creatures. Nor did I know that I’d be able to distinguish Boba Fett from Jango Fett.

Ohmylands! There is a difference! And although I cannot accurately grace you with a full family tree for the Fetts, I can at least recognize each of them when they zip past me at our house.

Hence…the Jedi Mama.

And this snapshot is just par for the course at our house.

3 thoughts on “Jedi Mama, Explained

  1. OH MY GOSH!!!! I'm squealing with delight, you just can't hear it in cyberspace! I'm so honkin' excited for you, and I will be your faithful reader until the end of time, or until your A.D.D. kicks in. I'm betting on the end of time. Even though I'm the second, I'm the FIRST to comment!

  2. But I am the first FOLLOWER!!!!
    and I'm glad you type fast so that you can get all of your funny thoughts out in 52 seconds – before the ADD takes over… which is why I just post LOTS of pics and videos on my blog…:)
    Tickled to death that you are sharing your silliness with the whole cyber-world… well those of us who are privvy to your new start-up!

  3. You have a boy wonder on your hands. He's handsome as the dickens and positively the most polite 9 year old I know. He probably gets all those qualities from your side of the family tree. Anyway, your blogs are wow-tastic and my non-existant abs are screaming from all the laughter. Keep it up BFF!

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