I’m feeling a bit exposed as I write this in the deafening
roar of my kids’ morning playtime. It's a bit revealing. Some might say a
little too revealing.
But I’m all about honesty here – even honesty about my dishonesty.
This wasn’t my first
choice in subject matter, mind you. I’ve been thinking all week about what I would write. But for whatever reason, I kept noticing all of the little fibs I have been telling lately, whether to save
face, save others, or because I just plain did not want to
share.
I’m not saying I’m proud of myself. But I’m not saying I’m
100% ashamed either. So, for the record, I'm coming clean to all of you who have been subject to my lies.
To the cashier at the grocery store:
My lies to you are more… indirect
lies. You talk to me. I don’t really want to talk to you… but I do. And I act
really thrilled about it. But I’m not. Your need for social interaction is
affecting my ability to tackle my 4-year-old to the ground before he scales the
toilet paper display.
To my church leaders:
I love you guys. But, as I’m sure you know, church callings
can be – well, as the grandmothers in church say – a
learning experience. I tell you I’ve “enjoyed my calling the past five
years,” and “I’ve learned a lot about myself,” but what I’m really saying is “HOW
COULD YOU LEAVE ME HERE SO LONG???” and “I AM REALLY TIRED OF GETTING TO KNOW
MYSELF.”
To my dentist:
I’m not sure why I lie, because I know you can tell. But I
just can’t bring myself to tell you that my flossing habits are less than acceptable.
As in, twice a week. If I'm lucky. Gross, I know. And I wonder why I keep having to pay you.
To my child’s pediatrician:
I lie about the milestones my kids have reached. Call me
ambitious, but no, he/she may NOT be saying 10 words. Or even 5. I round up.
To my parents:
I [still] lie about what I’m doing. 90% of the time, I’m NOT
cleaning the house when you call. Or doing anything productive, really.
To my husband:
I’m sorry honey. Although I’m sometimes a little too honest with
you, I continue to lie about how I really feel when I, the lone soldier, wake
up in the middle of the night with the kids AGAIN… while you snore peacefully
in the 3 a.m. darkness. Most nights, I want to beat you up. And if I wake you
up to help (like you tell me to) but you’re pretty much uselessly incoherent, I
often still want to kick you on accident when
you climb back into bed.
To my children:
I’m not scared to teach you about sex. I’m not going to lie
to you about death or why bad things happen to good people. It’s true that
there are no such things as zombies, monsters under beds, and vampires -- particularly the vegetarian variety (*sigh*).
But do NOT ask me anything about Santa Claus, the Easter
Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy.
I. Will. Always. Lie.
Probably until you’re 30.
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| Anyone else need serious forehead Botox at my age??? |
