I just had a funny thing happen. A friend of mine revealed to me that she has been reading this blog, having received the address from my father. Why he is giving out the address to a blog that I think he's visited all of twice, I have no idea, but this is beside the point. The point is that I had a moment of absurd embarrassment and shock at the idea that someone I actually know is reading my inner-most thoughts. Now, this is completely absurd because, obviously, if I am posting my inner-most thoughts onto the Internet, I can't possibly mind people reading them. And I don't. Really. I like the fact that people might happen upon this blog and realize, after reading how messed up I am inside, that it is ok to be a bit messed up. In fact, it is down-right normal. I firmly believe that I am simply saying stuff that a lot of people think but are afraid to say out loud.
But these folks happening upon the blog are basically supposed to be strangers. Yes, my family reads it, but they already know I'm weird and filled with foibles, and, as mentioned before, it is their job to accept me as I am. And they do, so I'm not worried about them. Friends, people from church, people who generally only see the carefully crafted outer-Jess, on the other hand, do not have to accept me. So, suddenly part of me began screaming "Oh no! What will she think of me? What if she tells others about it? Will they all think I'm insane? Will I be shunned forever? Stoned? Sent to live in a leper camp on the outskirts of town, yelling "unclean" at anyone who comes too close?"
Well, then, of course, the logical part of me starts to talk to the nutsy part, and I realize that, duh, I really can't possibly mind if people I know read these thoughts if I don't mind strangers reading them. This is me. This is who I am. I cannot be ashamed of who I am inside. I will not change what I write or how I act based on fears of not being accepted or liked. True friends will always accept me. And hey, maybe it would be nice for some of the people I know to understand that it's ok to be a bit less-than-perfect inside. That homeschoolers can question whether they're doing the right things in the right ways. That moms can feel unhappy or overwhelmed or even angry without being bad moms. That Christians can be resentful or depressed or whatever humans really do feel without being less christian. Believe me, I live in such a land of "perfection" that it would probably be refreshing for a few of the soccer moms around here to have a little angst with their coffee. Or not. Whatever. The point is, if you come to this blog and enjoy reading it, you are WELCOME here. I will continue to be 100% honest about all sorts of things that I think and feel. If you don't enjoy it, don't bother reading it. I won't be insulted.
So, I went to church this morning, and put all three children into their individual rooms. All three. Including Julia. She is a year and a half old, and I still cannot stand the thought of handing her off to people while I go do something else. I HATE IT. She cries for me and I basically want to shove everyone between her and me out of the way, grab her, and run. I guess this is that lioness instinct of protecting one's cubs. I am the huge mother bear lurking behind the trees. You may think that baby bear is cute, but step too close and I will appear, ready to rip your puny head off your shoulders. However, being a human and desiring to make my husband happy by actually joining him for the sermon, I fight this instinct as best I can, turn from my crying child, and step out the door. And stand there. Listening.
F i g h t i n g m y s e l f. Not...going...in...even...though...I...can...hear...her...crying...
louder...and...louder...and...
This was the point last time where I broke down, went in, grabbed her back, and happily spent the next hour walking around the church lobby with her cute little hand firmly grasped in mine. Today, however, just as I was losing my grip on my self-control, who should appear but my mother making her way purposefully towards me and the nursery door. "Go listen to the sermon," she insisted. "I'll keep track of her."
"No, no, you go listen, I'll wait here until she calms down. Then I'll be right behind you" I said, trying to hide the fact that I was inches away from getting Julia OUT of there.
"I want you to be able to listen this week," she said, slowly working her way over to the window, hoping to see Julia without being seen by her. "Oh, she's really upset," she said, with a worried, slightly panicked look on her face. And suddenly I was watching my own struggle take place in her eyes. She wanted to go in. Needed to go in. Was..fighting...herself...
And then she grabbed a volunteer name tag and went in with her! Hah! She's just as pathetic as I am! The difference was that I wasn't allowed to just go in and sit with her, since I'm not an approved volunteer in the children's area, but mom is! Well, I felt much better knowing mom was in there, so I actually went and sat with my husband listening to the sermon. After all, I knew an even fiercer creature, the Grandma Bear, was watching over my little cub. Watch your puny little heads around her. She doesn't mess around.
