I have a confession to make.
I have lots of little secrets.
And I think I should share them. That way you know if you still want to be friends.
My oldest son likes to eat Funfetti cake mix out of the box mixed with water.
I confess that I don’t care. I mean, he’s a full grown adult. I guess if he wants to put that chemically laden pseudo-crack into his system….I guess there are worse things he could be eating.
Like meth candy.
Or car oil.
Or, according to the woke people, anything but quinoa is almost as bad as meth and also causes cancer…maybe. Probably.
Okay, I do care. I just can’t exert myself to care enough to change it right now, so I don’t let it get under my skin.
I used the word “reactionship” (coined by parenting guru Nicholeen Peck), so many times in two days that my family (including my husband!) mutinied. Completely.
I was tied to the mast and threatened with having to walk the plank if I ever use that word in their presence again.
(Literally, I kept saying, “No, you guys, that was a reactionship. We want a relationship.” Over and over and over.
I was hoping they would get the point about reacting rather than relating, but instead they all ended up getting along because they were unified in their undisguised hatred of that phrase. Even their aunt joined them.
So, I guess it was kind of a win-win, because at least they quit fighting amongst themselves.)
I get nervous around authority.
It always comes across the wrong way, like people in authority would look at me and think,
She looks guilty. What did she do? She probably belongs in jail.
I don’t know why. I just don’t like authority figures. Any kind. My palms sweat and I start thinking I am breaking out in hives (although I never have, I just imagine that is what it feels like to almost break out into hives).
I just don’t like people who think they have the power to say “no” to me.
That’s why I don’t speed. Last time I got a ticket, I thought I was speeding. I started crying and I confessed to every time I’ve ever gone five miles over the speed limit, all the times I didn’t follow cars at a three second distance on the highway, and ever single time I have looked down at my phone when I should not have done it.
The police officer was either overwhelmed with all the incriminating honesty, or he may have taken pity on me.
It was just for an expired registration. I stayed at home for a week after that.
I know I’m spoiled. And I don’t care.
And, I like it, kind of. Well, actually, I think I like it. I want to be brave and say I could live in a yurt, or go 24 hours without hot running water, but I am not sure if I could do it without complaining a lot about it. Maybe I could. I want to think that I could.
But, I don’t know. Maybe I would be a giant whiner. Like Max on SpaceCamp.
Jinx and Max. Friends Forever. Or Until You Die In Space.
Gah! I just divulged the most embarrassing one of all! My favorite character was Tish. I watched SpaceCamp about 30,000 times on an allegedly pirated beta tape copy that my dad allegedly made.
In fact, a quote from that movie sums up my personality in less than 140 characters:
There’s a difference between being the boss and being bossy.
Amen, and I don’t know the difference yet. Ask my siblings, they will tell you I NEVER KNEW.
I think we all have little secrets–secrets we think we can’t tell anyone because they are just so embarrassing. Or we think we are the only ones with kids who don’t want to shower, we are the only ones who get in a huge fight with our husband, or sleep in on Sunday, totally unprepared for church, because we stayed up too late on Saturday night watching Netflix.
Whatever our little secrets are, I think it is safe to say that it would surprise you to know that even if your friends knew, they would love you. I mean, you still love me, right? I hope. I hope that my son’s indiscretions with the Pillsbury cake company don’t make you not like me.
I think it would be great if this week, we made a goal to share a little secret with someone. To just be a little more transparent with our friends and family. Sometimes it can be the means of getting help for a problem, like a Funfetti cake mix addiction.
Sometimes you will find that getting it out in the open makes you realize how silly it was to keep it inside and not share it. Sometimes it changes everything. Sometimes you really do need help and it’s something serious and getting it out is the first step toward making it better.
And some little secrets can make people love you more. Like when I told my husband that I secretly wish we had more time alone together on a private beach in the South Pacific.
And all along he thought I was wanting to be with the kids more than him. This secret was shocking, but it sure did make for a great weekend.
So, go ahead and try it. Share a little secret. Something from your heart or your craziness, and see what magic happens.