Get Out the Black Eyeliner

I am not a hater. Really. I am not.

Seems like I have spent years and years and years trying to remind myself that I am not a hater. I spent most of my teenage/early adult years full of angst. If you looked up cynical in the dictionary, you would find my photo. Even in the dark times, I knew deep down inside that I wasn't giving a true representation of the real me. I love people. I love life. I love rain and flowers and kids and the sky and puppies and blah blah blah. I LOVE my family. You get the picture.

Someplace between stepping out of the wreckage of my childhood and into my lifelong dream of being a mother, I realized that it was safe to be me. I realized that it might just be okay to actually trust some people other than my JC without putting them through the ringer first.

I am proud of me. I can smile and laugh out loud and be okay with it. Wow - if only they could see me now - who could ever believe?!?!?

The downside is that sometimes - ugh, sometimes - that little dark jerky person sneaks out. I can't control it. I question my surroundings. I question the people around me. Are they summing me up? Are they judging MY children? Leave my kids out of this, they are NOT me.

Like yesterday, we go to a function for #3. I want to have fun. I want to enjoy her accomplishment. Hell, I even gave all of my people money for the soda machine...see I WAS trying. And then the insecurity starts to creep in. And before I know it, I am in a full blown huff and can't wait to be able to run out of the building. And being the completely klassy person that I am, I start to make snide remarks about the people around me that I presume to be the cheerleader moms of my past. I am sure that the three or so people that I am being snarky to probably think that I've finally lost it for good. They are probably trying to figure out how they are going to get all of our kids home - since you know the people with the funny jacket will be taking me to my new home.

Nice. I am not this person. Why is this happening?

Could this be me reverting back to childhood when I was certain that EVERY mom in school knew what was happening at our house. Could it be because I felt they were all judging? And even now, when we go to the hometown, I stay away from Wal-Mart and anyplace else that we might possibly run into one of the judgers.

This is our place. We've worked hard to get here. I don't wanna spoil it by being sour. I AM NOT SOUR.

Besides, if I am gonna start acting like that again, then I'll need to update my wardrobe with a few goth items. Don't you know the pre-teens in our home will love that!