Why the Game?

Yadayadayada, sugarysweet, sugarysweet,yuk, yuk, yuk, yuk! "Friends are like a garden, full of variety........you'd never believe what my child did, put my big shoes on and pranced around the house, my four year old decided to write with a big magic marker on our freshly painted wall, but knowing that time is fleeting I decided that this was a memory and not going to be a scar".................can I read another word without hurling? Was I ever able to read without highly criticizing? Was there a time when I could read and enjoy? Oh, please why can't I be accepting? And who made me the literary critic,the potential publisher?

I am pathetic, have always been and always will be. I don't give an inch and yet require miles. But what is actually behind my criticism is an intense need for "REALNESS." Can we all just be honest, must we play this game all the time. "Youhoo, look at me over here, let me tell you about what an awful day I had and let me tell you about all my yukky feelings throughout the day and then let me tell you about how it ended so well, you're gonna really love it, and then you're gonna suggest to your publisher friend that they publish my 'honesty.'"

We dance, we prance, we move like we're the best thing going in a humble pie frolic and all of this in front of hurting people who know far more than those of us who continue to play the game. Can we let down our guards and just admit to one another, "don't have it together, but let me tell you what I like about you!" We truly and really are not "something." In our need to draw attention we try to disguise it so that we can look modest, demure, not self-seeking and yet if the blowhorn that we are really blowing would sound, our eardrums would be history.

I am a mom. Yesterday I was on the computer and on the phone more than I was talking with my children. My twenty year old was home and I wasn't, so to speak. I rummaged through the refrigerator and fed myself. I did not make a main meal for my family, regularity is not my forte. My son calls our home a "hippie home".....ummm O.k.?! I hopped on my bike and rode to a meeting. It felt so good to be at this meeting with the children at home doing who knows what?

I went to bed not feeling as if the loose ends were moored to a sturdy dock and woke up knowing it even more. And you know the sad thing about this? You're thinking it! Maybe I'm doing exactly what I am outraged by, do you hear my blaring blowhorn?! Help me Rhonda!