Lessons you will learn this week:
~Your mom on Versed is like maggie every day. Tell it, wait four minutes, tell it again. It’s Groundhog Day, only neither of them looks like Bill Murray, thankfully.
~Your kids teacher will send a group email saying that many parents have contacted her with concerns for their child and she is wanting to give each one due process, so please be patient. You will smile because you live in a district rife with helicopter parents and your concerns are prolly the only valid ones. She will validate your validity in her response to you. She is new to district, so she will tiptoe around you, verbally. You will respond with solid truth without embellishment and a realistic assessment of your kid’s abilities in the hopes that we can move on and get this figured out. You will smile harder thinking of her relief.
~Your girls have their last horse show of the season. It’s western themed and because your man barn moms so hard and has nothing western themed to wear, you will drive out to the boonies and pick that man up a cowboy hat and the biggest best buckle money can buy. It’ll require a special belt that people who wear big buckles just call “belt” and it’ll be carved with the words, “Protect our Second Amendment Rights”. He will refuse to wear it, but you will be glad you bought it anyway. Everyone needs a belt buckle like that, you are certain.
~You will think the pups are chewing on a bone. Together. So cute. Until you realize they’ve chewed through the trim in your family room and you will feel a little sick to your stomach at the sight of sawdust on their muzzles. You will remind yourself that nothing is precious but people and Jesus but you won’t really believe it. You’re savvy like that.
~You will ride the waves of emotion that control teens and exhausted kids, both. Ride them like a cowboy. Your daughter, having just returned from 2 nights at 6th grade camp will alternate between laughing and crying no fewer than 5 times in the 8 miles between school and home. You will stop trying to pick the right response and will just pray silently. This is what it means to be tired. Your teens will do the same and they are getting plenty of sleep. This is a mystery whose only clues are hormones and a knife in the library with Colonel Mustard. None of it makes sense.
~You will splurge on a pair of kickin’ boots, only to be actually wearing them when you see a refugee mother holding a dead baby. The guilt will nearly drive you to your knees, which is where you ought to be anyway, instead of shopping online. How can there be such discrepancies in this world? And how did you end up on this side of them, you will wonder.
~Sometime this week, all the get-to-know-you-activities your children (and by children I mean you) did this month will come home. You will gather them up and put them in a bin because if you ever in your life have to put 5 objects that describe your child in a brown paper bag again, you will drop your soul and walk away. Your babies will wonder how they can possibly use those same things next year? What if they develop new talents or have a radical life experience in the intervening 365 days? Just see that you don’t, you will tell them. You will not feel an ounce of guilt over this pronouncement.
~You will develop a zit in your arm pit and convince yourself that it is more painful that recovering from a c-section. Your husband will propose that maybe it isn’t and you will only glare at him. He has no idea.
~You will take the time several afternoons to lay by the pool and chat with Father. If you don’t have a pool, any place quiet and without tv will do. You will lay, body in an exclamation mark, and worship in the sun he created and surrounded by the beauty you get to live in. It’s ridiculously lavish and you deserve not a bit of it. You should tell him that. You will remind yourself that prayer is work, that it calls into battle beings in the heavenly realm and that is work. Keep doing it; it is precious and vital.
This is me being real.