I think I have written about almost all of the Karen’s sitting around my Kitchen Table in one way or another.  Nonetheless, for introduction and clarity, for me as well as anyone reading this, here’s how they line up . . . so far.

• Karen1 – The little girl who can’t walk, is generally happy but is carefully watching every other Karen.
• Karen2 – The lawyer, the negotiator, the reasoned one.
• Karen3 – The runner, and I mean that literally as well as figuratively.
• Karen4 – The shy, frightened one hiding behind her hair.
• Karen5 – The bitch. Enough said.
• Karen6 – The intimidated one, trying hard to stand up for herself.
• Karen7 – The guard of my little Kitchen Table fort.

And now

• Karen8 – The comedian

So, there they all are.  I often wonder if the list will just keep on growing or if other, less obvious versions are tangled up somehow in these main “characters” and be assured, characters they are. . . .   In any event, let me introduce Karen8.

Karen8 exists because – or maybe in spite of – the insecurity, fear, defensiveness, shyness, anger, pessimism and serious lack of confidence that Karen drags around with her like one huge ball and chain.  These individual attributes of Karen are obviously the impetus for all the different versions that pop up now and again.  But it appears that there is one overriding Karen – Karen8 – who appears as the face of each and

every one

, at one time or another.  She is actually easy to identify and as you come to know Karen you expect her to surface.  I think this comedic Karen8 is a distraction for all the others – or at least she intends to be a distraction.  She can quickly redirect attention from discomfort to easy laughter.  She is often the cause of doubling over with laughter and maybe even peeing in your pants – in the right circumstances.

And I have to admit that, together with the comedic relief that she brings, she imposes a level of self-depreciation and sarcasm that is likely hard to mimic.  These facets of her are intertwined impeccably and, really, one cannot exist without the other.

The existence of Karen8 is peculiar and somewhat of a contradiction. On an average day, whatever Karen emerges from the shadows and seems to be leading the charge exudes a singular characteristic, one that arises as the situation dictates.  However, at the same time, in walks Karen8 who isn’t in the shadows but is instead a persistent overlay of sorts.

I find it really strange that it is difficult for me to recall a specific instance of Karen8’s presence.  I imagine that there must be a reason for this lack of memory of any of these circumstances because there is no doubt that she exists.  I can actually feel her bubble up and take over at some point almost every day.  So, there is no doubt of her presence.  Maybe it’s the essence of Karen8 to be fleeting.  She sweeps in – does her thing – and exits left before she is noticed.  Maybe that’s why I can’t readily articulate a specific event.  Or maybe it’s because she really is just an overlay to each and every Karen and doesn’t demand specific attention.

A long time ago, I learned – mostly from my mother – that life can be challenging and if you don’t laugh at those things that get thrown in your way, tripping you up, it can become even more of a challenge. This was not a conscious lesson. In fact, I would say that I learned it by watching my mother and her handling of life. I would be negligent if I didn’t also say that she chose a plethora of other ways to handle life – retreat, anger, depression, and surrender.  I will admit that I most certainly possess some of those coping mechanisms as well but am much more aware of them and able to choose more appropriately – I hope . . . .

By far the best gift my Mom gave to my brother and I was our sense of humor and comedic talent.  My brother is REALLY funny – much more so than I am. He can lighten up any situation with a simple comment equipped with some physical gesture. I’d say that he is often the epitome of slapstick comedy.  One of his funniest “routines” is to say “Hey kids! Look I found a new staircase.” And then he proceeds to walk behind the couch, looking at us all the while, crouching further with each step, finally disappearing from view. When the kids were little they screamed with delight dashing around the couch to see where he went. Of course, he was right there curled up in a ball on the floor. This may not sound funny as I write it today but, I swear, his facial expression while going down is priceless.

My sense of humor is a little less obvious and involves an abundance of sarcasm, self-deprecation and, yes, a lot of eye-rolling. I often refer to this as my “superpower”.  It has helped me cope with many fluky and sometimes uncomfortable situations.  Here’s one I just now recalled.  Yay for my memory . . . .

I was having a somewhat important birthday and some friends and I were going to Boston to stay in a swanky hotel for the weekend to celebrate.  We arrive at the hotel, winding our way around the parking garage looking for a space close enough to the hotel entrance so we won’t freeze our asses off walking there from the car. Naturally, my birthday is in the winter and is typically colder than any other average winter day. We keep driving around until finally, we figured that we might as well park since the doors into the hotel are never going to be any closer than the 7 rows from our tiny corner parking spot. So in we go.

When we finally get our key and head to the room, which by the way was not a room but was a guest suite with full-court amenities including, an entrance hallway, living room, kitchen and 2 bedrooms each with their own bathroom. We choose our rooms, with me getting my own since, after all, I was the birthday girl. As I unpacked I figured I’ll check out the bathroom. And low and behold, there is a tub, shower, elegant sink/makeup area and of course a toilet. Here’s where the fun begins. This is not just any toilet. This one is tricked out. So much so that I, as a girl from Jersey who has certainly traveled but has never stayed in something like this gorgeous penthouse suite, just have to inspect it. Closely. Very closely.

There are all sorts of levers and buttons. The Jersey in me surfaces quickly and I start pushing and pulling at all of them dying to see how they operate. You can probably guess what happens next. Water starts spraying from the toilet right up into my face. And rather than let go I frantically continue pushing buttons while my face, now actually my entire upper body, is slowly getting soaked. The water changes from cold to warm and then fairly hot. When I finally can’t really breathe anymore I stop hitting buttons and I look up to find my friends standing in the doorway about to bust a gut. As I wipe my eyes to try to actually see them, I say, “Well, you’ll both be happy to know that the toilet and all of its beautiful bidet features are working just fine. I’ve tested them all and we are certainly not getting out of here without being nice and clean. ” We nearly threw our backs out laughing hysterically while mopping up the entire bathroom floor which by now was flooded.

As silly as it is, I can tell you that we have told that story several times and – for us – it just never gets old. My point is that I find myself approaching all kinds of situations in that same way. Anything uncomfortable becomes an opportunity to poke fun at myself and usually lightens the moment – for me at least.

Another example just came to mind.  And another high five to my memory bank.

Recently, I was driving to the airport.  It was April vacation and I was taking 2 of my children and my niece to Punta Cana.  We were meeting another family with whom we have traveled many times before.  Nonetheless, we were all a bit anxious about the trip.  For me, it was because I was traveling alone with the kids to the destination.  I love being in charge but I also hate it.  Go figure.

I will say that my traveling buddies are not really children.  They are 17, 16 and 14 respectively, and are hardly toddlers.  Each completely capable of handling their bags and passports and such.  However, as we drove to the airport we were each involved in our own respective worlds with our own thoughts and worries,  At one point, we all acknowledged our anxiety, which was starting to morph into panic.  And then Karen8 took over.  Suddenly, the driver, that would be me, started throwing out all kinds of jibs and jabs about herself.  Starting with the number of coffees I had to justify why my hands couldn’t stay still on the wheel and ultimately telling my niece and daughter about how I planned not to shower or wash my hair at all during our 7 days away because I wanted dreadlocks by the end.  And remember, one is a 17-year-old high school senior and the other a 16-year-old high school sophomore, both being most concerned with the appearance of those in their company, especially when it’s their mother or aunt.  Needless to say, there was a lot of eye-rolling by both of them.  But there was also a fair amount of giggling.  Mission accomplished.

Of all the Karens I have to say that Karen8 is probably my favorite.  I don’t mind being the brunt of a joke as long as it makes people laugh.  And I love knowing that I can bring that kind of sensibility to another person with my words or my actions.

Bottom line?  Laughter can be the best medicine.  Together with sun and salt water, that is.  Karen8 has definitely perfected this form of coping and healing.  However she surfaced, I am beyond grateful to her for the part she plays in my life and for the laughter she might bring to others.