Moonbeams

Last night I was burdened by a heavy heart...feeling exhausted and overwhelmed.  Do you ever wish you could just stop feeling everything so strongly?  Maybe that's just me.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, for sure.  It's like I have this constant radar running on overdrive, with the sole purpose of making sure everybody around me is all shiny and happy.  Who died and made me Dona Reed?  (Yikes! Is she actually dead?) It's exhausting trying to be the best wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, etc on a daily basis.  And here's the kicker...nobody's expecting me to be the best anything!  That's just an expectation I came up with all by my lonesome.  

Everybody who matters to me accepts me just as I am. 

Sometimes I think it must be nice to bumble through life like an insensitive schmuck... clueless about what everyone around me is thinking or feeling.  I don't want to be a total a-hole, just oblivious enough to not always be looking over my shoulder for trouble.  Somewhere along the line,  life taught me that the world is not a safe place; that it is not to be trusted.  By young adulthood, I came up with this great plan.  You see, all I have to do is foresee any problems that may arise in the near future and FIX THEM!  Whew!  

Simple, right?  Not so much.  Because life is unpredictable and so are people.  We don't get to know how long the good stuff is going to last and when trouble is going to rear it's ugly head.  In a lot of ways, the need to "fix" or "take care" of those around us is a biological, female thing.  Someone smart once told me that women are the obsessive nurturers that we are because of all the oxytocin that is coursing through our veins.  Ladies, have you ever wondered why the house can be falling down around you, while your kids are lighting matches, and your husband, dad, or other male figure can't quite figure out that he needs to do something about it?  

Bless their little hearts! If you are from the South, you know that this is more condescending than endearing.

Men don't have all that oxytocin coursing through their veins so they need someone (with a vajayjay) to say, "Hey, there, Sport!  You want to jump in and do a little micromanaging?" I have fully adopted this theory because the alternative theory is that they just don't give a damn that the sky is falling.  I don't like that one so much.

Now, if they still stand around scratching their heads after you have made your request, then you may reserve the right to be thoroughly annoyed.  

So, I guess I just wish I was more like a man...or maybe like my kids. When I look at their sweet, little faces I sometimes ponder what it is that makes them so beautiful to me.  It is a quality that goes far beyond the good looks they have inherited from their lovely mother.  No, it's as if they are all lit up inside and at any moment they could just shoot little moonbeams out of their fingers and toes. Could this magic be from their relatively carefree existence? Can you even remember what it was like when your biggest problem during the day was that you lost out on dessert because you gave the dog half your dinner again? I can't! It must be so great to never keep anything bottled up!  My three year old is either laughing or crying 90% of the day. 

How do I get back there again? Don't quite know.  I think it falls somewhere along the lines of living in the moment; you know, carpe diem and all that crap.  Pretty sure it involves spending a little less time staring at my phone and computer screen, and more time staring at those sweet faces.  Last night was a good start.  Hubby is such a great person.  Before bed, he prayed for me.  Not out loud; he's not a public prayer kind of dude.  No, he sat next to me in the bed and prayed for me silently. When I got out of bed this morning, running on way too little sleep, I felt...lighter, buoyant.  He may be on to something big! 

We're not talkin' moonbeams yet, but it's a start, right?