r.e.a.l.

I consider myself a 'figure it outer'.

I like to think about ideas until I feel abated and satisfied.

One idea I have been tumbling on the 'optimum dry' cranium cycle is the concept of:

being REAL

What if that means that I feel like being a grump?  Am I allowed  to 'be real' and cuss out the proverbial 'customer service lady' on the phone?  Hey, I'm in a grouchy mood, I'm just 'being REAL'

and

What if that means that I tell you my 'real' feelings about your hairstyle?  Lets say you are a mullet man.  Can I be 'real' and say, "You need to cancel that 'party in the back' action pronto, my man"

No, I don't really think it means that we get a license to 'divluge' our head trash every second we feel inclined to scorn or squelch someone else.  I'm not buying that angle.

Rather, its about deciphering the 'posers' out there.

Come on, you know you've been one.

I have.

I remember when Adam was an infant, we moved and had a RS presidency visit at 9am.  I had taken him to the doctor that day, very early and he was dressed nicely, so was I.  My living room just happened to be clean.  When the doorbell rang, I thought, "Sweet, what a wholesome impression I will make on my new RS leaders."  They will think this is how together I am every morning by 9am!

What I now realize, is that they knew I was a faker, a fraud, and certainly they did not assume that I was 'perfect'. It was dumb luck. Mature women know life is just life and everyday is not pristine.

That is what I think is broken.  I'll even give it a name; PMS= perception management syndrome.  In other words the ridiculous energy, effort and scheming that is called upon to manage other people's perceptions of you and your family.

Hey, I've been very successful in the past at 'marketing' my impressions.  Now, I'm older and a bit wiser and true to my creation, undeniably fallible in EVERY WAY POSSIBLE. I can happily announce that I am in no way perfect and you are welcome to come over anytime, clean or messy, tidy or tossy, plaque filled smiles or ivory like flossy.

HALLELUJAH!!

I am now free to just be real.

That means;

Some days, my car will be trashed, 

 some days it will be clean.

Some weeks, I will read the Sunday School lesson, and

some weeks I will not even be able to find the book.

Sometimes, I will feel like dialing in with my kids,

some days I will wish they would leave me alone.

Some days, I will wish I didn't do "that",

some days I will be complacent.

Sometimes, I will have a beautifully coiffed hairdo,

sometimes it will be a greasy sweat dried ponytail.

If you meet somebody 'perfect', don't buy what they are selling.  You are getting RIPPED.

I am going to guess that behind the 'percieved perfection' there is a closet full of crappola.

Ironically,

I ended up in a RS presidency and on one of those particular visits.  We went to visit a sister with a meticulously manicured household.  We had a pleasant time and as we left I mentioned the pristine nature of the housekeeping.  As we pulled away the RS president said to me, "When a house is that militant, I worry about the kids"

R.E.A.L.-ly???