I was running through the blogs that I read earlier this afternoon when I realized something. The way I thought it would feel to be a grown up isn't at all how it ends up being.
After reading earlier, I was washing dishes and this crazy song jumped into my brain radio. Where Have All The Cowboys Gone? except I was singing, "Where have all the perfect mom's gone?" Okay, yes. There is some creative timing involved in making those lyrics work with that melody. It was while I was making up new words to that horribly random song, that my realization occured.
There are certain things that I'm not good at. I generally feel unusual in the Grown-Up-Mother-Of-Three club. I don't like crafty things. I don't prefer caring deeply about many things or people. My hope runs a bit shallow. Those I do care about, I care about more deeply than people have usually cared back. I yell at my kids, okay, just the smallest. I swear from time to time. I drink too much when given the opportunity. I'm pretty much a really bad example of morality in my dreams. I procrastinate worse than the finest male example I know. For these reasons and many many more, I've built up little walls around myself that I use to try to keep people from liking me.
Blogging, scary as it was at first, seems to show itself as this mechanism to see other women that feel like I do. Other women who would not fit into the club that I imagine people to expect me to join. Apparently, this club doesn't really exist. Well, it might, but even the women in that club probably aren't perfect. And, they probably have a harder time pooping than I do, since they are so uptight. Busy keeping the world from seeing the reality of grossness that's in their bathrooms. The piles of medication they can't admit to using.
So, I guess I really like the reality of blogging. Sometimes, I find it scary or intimidating. Sometimes it's just plain funny. There's a slight addiction available here. But mostly, it's really nice to see that I'm not alone in the Not-So-Perfect-Grown-Up-Mother-Of-Three club.