Wilma has come and gone with minimal impact on our world. We did have company for 2 days, a lovely family from my online mother’s group- a fellow rebel mama. As is often the case when rebelmamas meet, I fell instantly into a mom-crush with Ona and we stayed up way, way too late Monday night. We had one of those conversations similar to the marathon talks of my dating years, where I talked and talked and talked and listened and tried to remember all the techniques I learned in my Communication Seminars (ask leading questions, listen to the answers, don’t spend their whole answer waiting for your turn to talk). I went to bed with a familiar unease: “did I talk too much? I made an ass of myself! She thinks I’m an idiot! She’s up there telling her husband that I never shut up, and I KNOW she’s making fun of me for answering when she asked her daughter a question!”
I used to think I was the only grown woman with these kinds of insecurities, but as I become more honest with the people around me I realize I’m actually a long way from a minority here. What causes us as women to be so incredibly insecure with each other, and professionally? I am constantly plagued by a fear in the back of my head that any minute now, someone, or everyone, is going to find out what a huge phony I am-that I don’t really know how to do my job, that I am a bad mother and a social misfit. I worry that I’m missing social cues and that when I leave the room, people are making faces and rolling eyes at each other.
In the end, I don’t care enough to really be crippled by my chattering brain. Maybe it’s because I have KIDS now, and they HAVE to love me no matter what!
Anyway, having some of My People around here for a couple of days was wonderful and fun. They even have an Avery, who is a boy 2 months older than ours. Want more? They have a son a year and half older than Hannah. We literally did not hear from them all weekend. The family was here for less than 30 minutes when we heard the hum of tween chatter coming from upstairs.
I’m sending them classified ads. South Florida is no place for Our People. Hear me, Ona?
Things are back to normal now I suppose, for a couple of days, while we prepare for the next round of houseguests: Michael’s family arrives Friday for a weekend visit. Does the fact that I’m not cleaning with a toothbrush this time mean that I’m just more comfortable with my place in their family, or just that I’m too lazy to give a shit whether they talk about how dirty my house is on their way home? OR, maybe it means that I’m gaining valuable confidence. Or it could mean that I’m in denial. Either way, the house isn’t getting super clean before they come, because a)I have to work tomorrow and b) I have important books to not read and yard obstacle courses to run when I’m not working. This baby, she is a taskmaster. I’m serious. You think you have it rough-this kid turns off the computer if I try to update the web log when she’d rather be doing the stairs.
