Thursday, September 17, 2009

Reality

I had a great conversation with the mom of one of M's classmates the other night. Mom-mom relationships are an interesting thing. Lots of judging (or at least, perceived judging) over in the elementary-school-mom-social-scene. Rah-rah moms, moms who seem to live at the gym, moms that look a little too perfect. (See? Me. Judging.)

Anyway, M's friend's mom and I had a real conversation. About being frustrated with kids. About yelling. About trying not to swear in front of the kids. I know these parents are involved with their kids and have fun with their kids and adore their kids. But it was refreshing to hear another mom talk about the same daily frustrations and lost tempers as happen at our house.

A little bit of validation goes a long way. (Not that I don't still wish that I handled my frustrations better - but I'm gonna try to stop laying a guilt trip at my own feet.)

I think we all put on some sort of facade to strangers and acquaintances. And it's nice when you find people that you can let a bit of that guard down.

My husband and my sisters and probably my mom are about the only people who see and understand the "real" me. The truth about me? I'm a little bit weird, a little bit silly, a little bit insecure, pretty smart, kinda geeky, a little bit ADD, fairly disorganized, a substantial procrastinator and I swear. A lot.

I watch a strange variety of television - Mad Men, Top Chef, Grey's Anatomy, The Ultimate Fighter, Entourage, America's Next Top Model and Glee. Yes, I said The Ultimate Fighter.

I've never seen an episode of Dancing with the Stars. I don't think Ellen Degeneres is a good choice for the new Idol judge.

My purse and my car and my desk are cluttered. But I can find anything I'm looking for in those spaces.

I bite my fingernails. And I went to an all-women's college. I'm a bit obsessive in a cyclical fashion.

I'm pretty much a dork but I can act like a non-dork when out among civilians.

The reality is that we are all a bit different than the image we portray to those around us. How different is the "public you" from the "real you"?

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