all over but the shoutin'

I took a nap this afternoon (loved it) and had this strangely real dream. It felt so real that I woke up feeling all uncomfortable and sick to my stomach a little bit. All I really remember is that I'm driving in my car with my three kids (who sounded more like a gaggle of hyped up geese in my ear). The next thing I know is that I'm deciding to drive down this super nice pier over some body of water and in my mind I know that it leads to this amazingly quaint little boutique/cafe/hangout area to which I must be crazy to bring my gaggle. I reach the end of the pier and realize with horror that I need to reverse back and almost kill us by driving backwards like an overly medicated senior with a led foot. Rather than driving us into the deep blue, instead I plow into a statue. Next thing I know, I'm explaining my actions to an authority figure of some sort, apologizing and promising that I will pay for the damages. The anxiety is flowing through my veins while realizing that a) I don't have the money to pay for the damages, and b) my children have somehow climbed out of the car and are whoopin' and hollerin' like it's nobodies business while extremely white and well-ironed people are shaking their heads and waggling their manicured fingers and mumbling to each other who is their mother and why does she obviously not care that they are a-whoopin' and a-hollerin' so dangerously close to the waters edge. (I love run-on sentences.) In the back of my mind I think it would serve them right to fall right off the edge, I'm so mad they can't ever just sit there like other people's kids, while I'm stuck in this painful conversation. I woke up with the panic lingering as well as a little frustration with my kids and the fear that maybe I really don't know how to drive worth crap. Ugh.

I don't need a psychiatrist or a hypnotist or a well-meaning elderly woman to tell me that the themes in this dream are obviously the themes that are intricately woven into my normal every day. The themes: CONTROL and FEAR

The control part I do have a shaky handle on. I can usually maintain control of my gaggle and get them to fly in formation with only a raise of my voice and a loud clap or two. It's not a pretty picture and makes me look like a real jerk to the ever-present onlookers. It's all a part of the circus act that we get to perform any time we've flown the nest. Happy to entertain you. I try not to maintain eye contact with the audience. I'm too nervous to look the critics in the eye. I've always been a wimp, which leads to...

Fear. What, you say? Aren't you, like, in your mid-thirties? No. guffaw. Not yet, I'm only 32! I can still be nervous, anxious and preoccupied with what other people think for at least another three years, right? I've always been this way. I don't know if it's a kind of shy or not. I feel fine when I talk to people, meet new people, speak in front of a group. My fear comes after I have put myself out there. I'm just not comfortable in my own skin yet. I really think I inherited this trait from my dad. He's the sweetest, most lovable guy in the world (not that part) but he's plagued with this same sort of social discomfort (that part). It terrifies me to ask some girls to go to lunch with me. This really hinders my ability to move past the acquaintance stage. And I hate that. Yesterday I was moving some of my old scanned photos from recently impaired computer to new, shiny, fast computer (thank you, love) and stopped to glance at a few high school pics. I was surprised that although all of the photos were snapped during happy moments, that sense of nervousness that I felt daily came back in my gut. I don't get it. I had a great time in high school. Of course, everyone feels a sense of insecurity during adolescence, but why would this continue to emerge even now that I'm a bonafide, verified, dignified adult! I'm not ashamed to admit that I've used my kids as pawns to make friends. It's easier to ask another mother if she wants to bring her kids to the park. Somehow it's not so scary. But the day is soon coming when I will need to grow up enough to look someone in the eye and ask them to get to know ME, for a change, (I'll have to come up with better words). Someday soon my kids will not need my help to make friends and arrange playdates. I need to get the nerve and follow their lead.

This so affectionately reminds me of one of my favorite posts of all times. My dear friend Amanda, many of you know, wrote this awesome description of the challenges of making girlfriends. Read it and you're guaranteed a laugh and an epiphany.
http://ajfunuski.blogspot.com/2007/07/shes-just-not-that-into-you.html

And my gosling #2. Ethan, who had a birthday last month, who makes me laugh, who's become surprisingly snugly with me lately, who loved his first swimming lesson, who seems grumpy to everyone that he doesn't know, who has a different character name everyday, who never has to be asked twice to do a job, who drinks like there's no tomorrow, who loves to sing under his breathe when he thinks no one is listening, who is smack dab between Mr. Personality and Miss Sweetie Pie, but nonetheless could never be overlooked because of his own ultra-coolness and mega-watt endearingness. I am so glad you are mine.