Category: Life in general

Stacey (er, I mean, “Anymommy”) of Is There Anymommy Out There? is someone I can’t help but read.  She’s funny, smart, talented… and she’s not afraid to show us she’s human.  What a package!  No wonder her ham-eating husband is happy to put down his tools and listen to her vent.  Oh, and speaking of… thanks for all the support on my Jury Duty whine-fest.  I’m better now. 

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Me: I’m closing down my blog. Also, we have to move. Preferably states.

Matt is doing something with tools in the basement. It’s quiet time and the kids are actually quiet, so I have had a solid forty-five minutes to immerse myself in neurosis.

Matt: Was it a felony?
Me: No! Not me. This is not about me. I’m fine. I’m perfect, thank God, otherwise, how could I be so irritated at the rest of the world?
Matt: Are you still stewing about the Board thing?

I stare at him in irritation. Kind of. Maybe. Do you ever have small things happen in your world that really throw you off? Mentally, I mean. They make you question yourself and feel like, perhaps, just maybe, oh the horror, not everyone you encounter likes you? Wince.

The thing is, objectively, I know that. I’m a strong-willed, fairly opinionated woman. I stick my foot in mouth a bit. I sometimes come at things from one perspective and forget to take a wider view. I try, really hard, but I know that discretion and compassion sometimes elude me, let alone perfection.

Every once in a while, though, it smacks me in the face a little and takes the wind out of my life sails. In this one week, a few things rocked my small life boat. Little things. Silly things. Things that I think I handled outwardly, somewhat maturely, but then, sadly, I stomp to Matt with my thumb in my mouth and my scowl on like a five-year-old child with a capsized boat and soggy undies.

Someone complained to the preschool board because I expressed my opinion about my own children’s education. Wah! I’m on the Board! It wasn’t inappropriate.

I happened to hear another opinion about me. Maybe even a valid opinion, but it stung.

Small. Life. Upsetting, nonetheless.

In the basement, Matt is still holding his tools. He hates this kind of conversation. I know he is dying to go back to his project, but I’ve been working up to this vent all week.

Me: No! Maybe. That wasn’t fair. There are valid complaints to make about me, but that wasn’t one of them. It didn’t require tattling to the board.

He shrugs. I consider adding husbandcide and burying evidence in the backyard to my to do list beside moving and quitting blogging.

Matt: I agree. It didn’t. So…

Another shrug. There are some sharp tools in the basement and the man already has eight stitches in his head. He’s pushing it.

Me: I just feel unliked. A blogger called me out anonymously on a blog I really like because I stated my opinion in comments elsewhere.
Matt: Can you call someone out anonymously? Seems oxymoronish.
Me: I don’t know. Yes, you can. I knew it was me. I was nice. I just disagreed! On the actual issue! I didn’t say a single word about the people involved. I like them. I think. As much as you can like people you’ve never met. She called me the one person who ‘actually’ felt the need to say something.

Matt shrugs.

Matt: Were you?

Murderous rage rises in my chest.  Okay, maybe.

The deeper problem is that I have never before committed to being me as strongly as I have in the last five years. In my first thirtyish years of life, I moved almost every two years. I bounced around the world and left most places behind before things got particularly difficult. I didn’t serve on boards or state my opinions for lots of people to read or get to know many people well enough to care, particularly, one way or another whether they liked me. Did it matter? I was gone. That freedom is also a curse. I never had to decide if I liked certain parts of me all that much either.

Now here we are. Kids. Boards. Preschools. Blogs. Wonderful friends. Acquaintances who one day could be on boards with me, or teach my children, or be – surprise! – the best dentist in town, or the manager where my kids want to work. Whatever. Hello frightening long term relationships of all kinds. I don’t do this kind of pressure. We clearly need to move before this gets more serious. People are starting to know who I am here.

I also love it. It’s home. I just finished up a major bounce, half way across the world, and I missed my life and my acquaintances and my boards and my lovely, ancient house on its tree-lined boulevard. I love blogging too, connecting and sharing opinions and stretching my views as I awaken to others’ views.

But, couldn’t everyone just always agree with me and never misunderstand me?

Meanwhile, I am still pouting in the basement.

Me: Don’t you ever get your feeling hurt? Don’t you ever feel like you just don’t want to…be out there any more?
Matt: Not really.
Me: (Fuming black smoke.)
Matt: You have such good friends. Here. Saipan. D.C. All over.
Me: I know.
Matt: People who really love you, so much so that they don’t hurt your feelings, even when they disagree with you, or when you discuss tough things, because you just know they love you. Right? They know where you are coming from. They know the whole you. You aren’t going to rub them the wrong way because they always understand the whole story about you. They are never looking at you from one specific angle.
Me: (grudging affirmative grunt)
Matt: It’s not possible for everyone to see you that way. You wouldn’t let them all in, even if you could. You’re pretty closed. It’s too much, anyway, there’s only so many close friends people can have.
Me: Right.
Matt: So, these other people don’t know you. They are judging one small piece, one aspect. Whatever. They aren’t judging you. So….

Matt shrugs.

Me: Soooo?
Matt: Who cares? (Huge shrug.)

Me: I get what you’re saying with the shrug thing – but I swear on my life, if you shrug again, I am going to make like a praying mantis and bite off your head and leave your bleeding, twitching carcass on the floor. And, I will not call 911. We already used our quota this year. I care, a little. It still hurts my feelings. It leaves me feeling adrift, somehow. Vulnerable. I feel vulnerable. But, I have to let it go, I get it.
Matt: You don’t have to let it go. You can vent. Just remember, it’s got nothing to do with who you are. It doesn’t have to shake you to the core.

I ponder a moment. Sometimes, it does. Sometimes, it has something to do with who I want to be. Not always.

Me: We may not have to move. I might be able to tough it out.
Matt: Great. Jobs are tight.
Me: Thanks. For listening.
Matt: Anything for you, my perfect darling. Want to make like a rabbit and thank me properly?
Me: Not a chance, Confucius.

I start back up the stairs. Matt calls after my retreating back.

Matt: You could thank me by really shutting down the blog!
Me: I wasn’t ever really considering it.
Matt: How about giving up twitter!?
Me: I’m feeling much better. I’m good actually. Thanks.