Saturday, February 4, 2017

You get in trouble. With a capital T.

Here's what happens when you write a post about teen dating for a large, popular publication..... 

You get in trouble.  With a capital T.

Turns out that a post like that will get shared so many times that it'll land in the hands of your friend's teenage daughter who is in World History class with your son's girlfriend.  And your friend's daughter will lean over in class and point out to the girlfriend that the mom of said girlfriend's boyfriend has just talked about her all over the internet.  Then the girlfriend will text the boyfriend, aka, my son... and tell on me.  And tell him that he should be upset.  Or whatever.  Then he will be upset and call his dad to complain about it and the world and all it's peoples will spend a sucky weekend discussing how horrible a mother my kids have.  Holy Christmas y'all - I heard free speech was a thing.

That really happened.  No. Really.  And it was a bad weekend in Waltersville for me.  So I promised to never write about that particular kid again.  I actually think I yelled it via text.  I text yelled it.  Whether it will hold true has yet to be seen.  We Walters tend to make promises like, I promise to clean my room .... I promise to take out the trash.... I promise to act like you're not stupid, Mom.  But some things never come to pass.

I wrote a post about that same line of thought for the church blog here.  Feel free to give me your Facebook like.  That church crowd is a tough one.

But in the thick of things last week I wrote the following for myself.  Maybe you read it before I deleted it.  Maybe not.

"Here's what mothering is.....

It's hard.  And it's mean and it's lonely.  And it has moments of super highs when you see your sweet little ones asleep looking like angels and they're all silent and behaving...but also times of extreme lows when you realize that you've spent the last 16 years basing your entire existence on the outcome of their little lives - only to find out that you have mistakenly based your entire existence on the outcome of their lives.

And it comes with plenty of input, but little to no thanks.  And plenty of people who are right there with you, sometimes way too ready to point out all your missteps and mistakes.

And then there are those who like to ask things like, Did those boys spoil you on Mothers Day/your Birthday?  ......  to which I think to myself, No. No, they didn't. They forgot.  Or they went to a friend's house instead to have a cookout with the friend's mom.  Or that they said their nice words as instructed by their dad or a teacher.  Mostly they like to tell me that they don't have any socks or underwear or that I need to go to the grocery store. 

But mothers still try.  And we laugh sometimes at the ridiculousness of it all.  And we cry a lot over the ridiculousness of it all.  And we look everywhere to find someone who may get it.  Someone who may understand that it's lonely on top.  I mean lonely under all the weight of the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, and the raising of actual people.

And sometimes it's just mean.  Sometimes I'm the mean one.  Sometimes other people are - even the kids.  Especially the kids, even if they didn't mean to or know it.

And I guess one of the biggest parts of mothering is trying to find your own place.  Whether that be for a few minutes alone in the bathroom when the kids are little, or out shopping - trying to fill your time with something when the kids are older and they don't really need you that much anymore.

Finding my own place brought about the birth of this blog.  But it comes to this.

Sometimes the wrong thing wins over what is right.  And sometimes the right thing that you tried to do forever just didn't make much difference.

And so, I'm trying to listen more.  More for my purpose, more to the needs of my family, my kids in particular.   Maybe I'll hear the divine voice of God telling me that I am woman, hear me roar.  And he may or may not whisper that he totally agrees with my theory that people in general are crazy. 

Or maybe I'll only hear my own voice calming my doubts that are so busy taking over the more rational parts of my brain.  Whatever.    Maybe my heart, soul, and mind will become suddenly all refreshed and beautifully tan.  Or maybe I'll find a new idea, an entirely new format or endeavor.  I'm not really sure. "

When I wrote these words, I was in sort of a funk and decided to let the blog fall apart out of spite for my pathetic couple days of existence.  But then I slept.  And I took time to walk away from the immediacy of having to respond to something that didn't need a response.  Yet.  And I decided that what I originally wrote wasn't all that bad.  And that it was as close to the truth about parenting as you'll ever hear a mom say.  So I'm okay with it.  I edited the whole I quit the blog and quit the world section.... Yep, that was in there.  But you know what?  I may be a quitter for a day or two, but then I remember who I am.  I am strong.  I am a survivor of loss and hurt and meanness of the meanest kind.  I am a survivor of so many trials and failures I can't even begin to count.  And I am a survivor of depression and other assorted mind games that the body uses to trick me into believing that I'm weak.

And I remembered that I'm a writer.  And a speaker of truthful words, no matter how many or few read them.  And then I decided that it's better to be known by God for what I can accomplish for his glory, than to be known by anyone else for things that caused me to forget my place in his kingdom.

post script - will I write about that particular Kid and and his girlfriend, Princess Chatterbox, ever again?  I'm undecided.  Stay Tuned.

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