I know that life is not a to do list. I know my kids will never remember or even care that the towels were folded just right. I know this. I try to fake myself out sometimes. The kids will be painting and flinging that crap all over the kitchen. There I am, forcing myself to be like, "Oh sure, that's totally cool Tyler. Go ahead and wipe the black paint all over the wood floor, I'll get it later." Or, the God forsaken Play-Dough. I curse that whole activity. Secretly, I am dying inside and hyperventilating on the outside. What the heck is wrong with paint on the table or Play-Dough on the floor? I know it will wipe up just fine. The kids are cool with it. They're having fun. All the while, I'm annoying the sh!# out of myself worrying about the mess.
I tried crazy pills. Nope, still crazy. I tried yoga. That "sport" is expensive! I tried new sleep patterns. No go. Still OCD as ever. Here's the deal. I know this is something I need to focus on daily. Now, I'm happy to say... I don't need therapy. I have you guys now! SO, when Regan wipes her yogurt fingers on the couch, I can say, "That's cool babe, I'll get it." And then I can jump online and tell you all how it really made me feel. You all can handle the real Type A me. And she will get the calm, cool, and relaxed Mommy she deserves.
I never want my kids to know the truth. I want them to be carefree and play in the mud and procrastinate and have messy rooms and JUST BE KIDS. So, I will keep this dirty little secret from them. Promise you won't tell?
Whatever my next post is... it'll be a happy little thing. It will not include self-deprecating behavior. I won't be so needy. Until then, I'm off to paint, create with Play-Dough, and pretend to be less annoying that I really am. Fake it til you make it.