I have a confession to make.
I have lots of little secrets.
And I think I should share them. That way you know if you still want to be friends.
My oldest son likes to eat Funfetti cake mix out of the box mixed with water.
I confess that I don’t care. I mean, he’s sixteen. I guess if he wants to put that chemically laden pseudo-crack into his system….I guess there are worse things he could be eating.
Like meth candy.
Or car oil.
Or, according to the 100 Days of Real Food blog, anything but quinoa is almost as bad as meth and also causes cancer…maybe. Probably.
Okay, I do care. I just can’t exert myself to care enough to change it right now, so I don’t let it get under my skin.
My daughter (I won’t mention which one because she would probably never speak to me again), doesn’t like showering.
I don’t know why and I can’t mentally, emotionally or spiritually figure it out right now. We talk. Just not about that.
I have prayed about it, and Heaven says she’ll grow out of it.
I always respond with
And then Heaven laughs, because the angels are probably all wondering the same thing about me–not about the showers, but when will I “grow out of” some of my inexplicable behaviors.
I used the word “reactionship” (coined by Nicholeen Peck), so many times in two days that my family (including my husband!) mutinied. Completely. I was tied to the mast and threatened with having to walk the plank if I ever use that word in their presence again.
(Literally, I kept saying, “No, you guys, that was a reactionship. We want a relationship.” Over and over and over.
I was hoping they would get the point about reacting rather than relating, but instead they all ended up getting along because they were unified in their undisguised hatred of that phrase. Even their aunt joined them.
So, I guess it was kind of a win-win, because at least they quit fighting amongst themselves.)
There are other things less trivial that I hide.
Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and I wonder how I am going to make it through the next half of my life this way. You know, the way it feels after the earth shifts under your feet and you realize that nothing is really solid.
Except for the things you can only touch or see or feel with your heart.
I wonder how I will live like this, knowing that any moment everything could change.
Like when I first learned about how we breathe. Do you know how difficult and complicated that process is? How we keep breathing? Everything in our bodies has to work exactly right and at exactly the right time for it to work. Or we stop breathing.
For a week after I learned how complicated it was, I walked around aware of every single breath I took.
It’s like that now, only it’s not my breaths that my heart is listening to hear. It’s my children. My husband. I am listening, always checking….
It can be distracting, sometimes. And, I know I should learn to just let them breathe without thinking about it–it’s supposed to be involuntary.
But, I don’t know how to let it go, yet. And sometimes, I wonder if I ever will.
I get nervous around authority.
It always comes across the wrong way, like people in authority would look at me and think,
She looks guilty. What did she do? She probably belongs in jail.
I don’t know why. I just don’t like authority figures. Any kind. My palms sweat and I start thinking I am breaking out in hives (although I never have, I just imagine that is what it feels like to almost break out into hives). I just don’t like people who think they have the power to say “no” to me.
Or, somehow, I think that if they have the authority to send me to jail, then I must have done something wrong in my past somewhere that was illegal that I don’t remember, and they are going to send me to prison.
That’s why I don’t speed. Last time I got a ticket, I thought I was speeding. I started crying and I confessed to every time I’ve ever gone five miles over the speed limit, all the times I didn’t follow cars at a three second distance on the highway, and ever single time I have looked down at my phone when I should not have done it.
The police officer was either overwhelmed with all the incriminating honesty, or he may have taken pity on me.
It was just for an expired registration. I stayed at home for a week after that.
I also know that I am spoiled.
And, I like it, kind of. Well, actually, I think I like it. I want to be brave and say I could live in a yurt, or go 24 hours without hot running water, but I am not sure if I could do it without complaining a lot about it. Maybe I could. I want to think that I could.
But, I don’t know. Maybe I would be a giant whiner. Like Max on SpaceCamp.
Gah! I just divulged the most embarrassing one of all! Oh, and maybe there’s more. My favorite character was Tish. I watched SpaceCamp about 30,000 times on an allegedly pirated beta tape copy that my dad allegedly made.
And I loved it. SpaceCamp. Thought it was the best movie. Ever.
In fact, a quote from that movie sums up my personality in less than 140 characters:
There’s a difference between being the boss and being bossy.
Amen, and I don’t know the difference yet. Ask my siblings, they will tell you I NEVER KNEW.
Sometimes, I really don’t care about dinner. Like, I have recipes and everything and I have vegetables that are going to turn bad if I don’t use them right away, and I just bag it and the kids eat cereal and bacon for dinner.
I also secretly (and not so secretly) sometimes wish that I could just get away from the SMeE–somehow escape it.
Like monks or people with meditation webinars on the internet.
Sometimes I try, but usually when I try to concentrate on releasing negative energy, I just fall asleep.
So, that’s kind of getting away from it, right?
I think we all have little secrets–secrets we think we can’t tell anyone because they are just so embarrassing. Or we think we are the only ones with kids who don’t want to shower, we are the only ones who get in a huge fight with our husband, or wear our pajamas, or sleep in on Sunday, totally unprepared for church, because we stayed up too late on Saturday night watching Netflix.
Whatever our little secrets are, I think it is safe to say that it would surprise you to know that even if your friends knew, they would love you. I mean, you still love me, right? I hope. I hope that my son’s indiscretions with the Pillsbury cake company don’t make you not like me.
I think it would be great if this week, we made a goal to share a little secret with someone. To just be a little more transparent with our friends and family. Sometimes it can be the means of getting help for a problem, like Funfetti cake mix.
Sometimes you will find that getting it out in the open makes you realize how silly it was to keep it inside and not share it. Sometimes it changes everything.
And some little secrets can make people love you more. Like when I told my husband that I secretly wish we had more time alone together on a private beach in the South Pacific.
And all along he thought I was wanting to be with the kids more than him. This secret was shocking, but it sure did make for a great weekend. Even if it was still with the kids and he had the stomach flu. It was just nice. Nice for him to know that I still loved him and that we were in this together. And, on some future weekend, it will make for an even nicer one. Without kids or flu.
So, go ahead and try it. Share a little secret. Something from your heart or your craziness, and see what magic happens.
Also, my last secret. I like Frozen. Maybe I’ll even do a cover. Ha. Ha. No.
Until then, good evening, beautiful world!