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.
|Anyone else need serious forehead Botox at my age???|