Maybe I do have issues…

Maybe I do have issues. This thought echoed throughout the hallways of my mind this morning after reading a few recent comments on my Facebook page. It’s not just social media that is pushing me toward a few much needed therapy sessions. Allow me to explain…

A few Sundays ago I asked if I could sing a special during the upcoming service. I generally choose my song according to my current circumstances. My song choice was an intimate prayer between the songwriter and God – a prayer of thankfulness and of hope for a brighter future. Needless to say, I had a terrible week and I was thankful that God promised me hope for a brighter future. 

When I’m feeling very emotional before singing, I share what’s been going on in my life with my church family before the music starts. I find that if I tear up or full on cry during my testimony that I can make it through my song with just a runny nose and no tears 🙂 Thankfully I made it through my song and felt very good about my offering to the Lord. It was a cleansing experience, as it generally is for me.

Now, let’s fast-forward to the following Sunday…

As I walk into the sanctuary, an elderly woman that joined the church the previous Sunday approaches me…I can’t remember her name – not surprising, because I’m not good with names. If her name were a number I’d have it stored away. (I’m good with number sequences – but not math, oddly enough…) I digress. She has a concerned look in her eye. “Honey, are you the young lady that sang last week?” “Yes ma’am, I am.” “Darlin’, you should really talk to someone. You seem like you have some real issues.” To that, I nodded and told her, “Thank you.” By the way, I did not ask her what her name was.

Here’s the thing about being so very open about who you are as an individual…As I open myself up to the people around me, I’m also opening the door for their opinions, their comments, their love, their approval, their disapproval – I have to be willing to accept ALL of this. For me, that’s a price I’m willing to pay in order to be the Becky that God has so carefully designed me to be and so freely allowed me to become. As I mature, I learn that I don’t have to absorb it all. I can sleep at night with the knowledge that everyone will not accept this open and honest me. Because, let me tell you something – The friends in my life that experience my highs, my lows and all my in betweens and still think that I’m somebody worth loving for the long haul – those are the people’s opinions that I take seriously – those are the people’s opinions that I choose to absorb.

Maybe one day this now nameless woman will be one of those people…Maybe she won’t. Either way, she was right. Sometimes my real issues really show up and bite me in the butt. Plain and simple – we all have them – I’m just so very thankful to have people in my life that I can trust to share them with. More importantly, I’m thankful to have a God that loves me…issues and all.

XOXO, Beck

 

 

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Well, crap.

I never imagined that I would ever experience an emotional breakdown that, at it’s very core, was directed related to dookie. Yes, folks – I never read any books on etiquette, so…here goes.

The kid broke me. First of all, he played with a toy car in his mashed potatoes during his dinner time. He was COVERED in his meal of choice…If only he could ingest a meal through his pores, he would ALWAYS be full! After he eats, what he hasn’t already played with, I bring him to the bathroom to clean up. Mommas know that the filthy kids get what I call a “pre-bath.”  So, we pre-bathe in the sink…I unclothe him by the edge of the tub. The fun begins.

Let me just preface this by saying the we are at my in-laws’ home and my mother-in-law keeps a MUCH cleaner house than I do. I do the best I can. She does better. The first thing Sugar does when he gets in the nude is whiz on her floor and the edge of the rug. Monica, if you’re reading this, I forgot to tell you that he peed on the rug. You may want to throw that in the washer. Okay then…I proceed to swear something. I’m sure it was on the upper level in the chain of profanity. I think to myself, it’s not so bad, though – just urine, right? I then move him to the tub. Before I can say, you’re a little sh*t….He reads my mind and proceeds to verify it as factual. Doo doo. Yes, doo doo. And the tears and snot begin to flow – Let me just clarify…My tears and snot, not Miles’. I’m crying like my childhood dog just died. For a split second I ask myself, “Is this really what you’re upset about, or is it something deeper – something repressed?” Uh, yeah. This is what I’m upset about. My inner voice shuts her pie hole. I pull the sucker out of the tub – butthole facing opposite my body, of course. I wipe  his little rear and set him down for two seconds while I go to scoop the crap out of the tub – using my hand like it’s a scoop net in the fish tank. Scoop and drop in the toilet – Repeat this act three to six more times. Wait a second! The kid is squatting in the corner finishing his dig… NO! I run to stop him. Hello, Becky…You ain’t stopping this one. I wait….Clean again…Hold up! In the mirror I see what looks to be a butthole sized doo doo stain on my shirt! Mercy. I make a mental note to clean that up with a wet wipe and some febreeze.

I get the second dump cleaned up. He pees again. In a different spot. I curse.

Miles wasn’t quite finished.He moved up a step and dropped one last juicy nugget. He then proceeded to use it as finger paint – from what I gathered, he was going for a more abstract work of art. I do not need to tell you that I cried and cursed some more. I cried and cursed some more.

 When it was all said and done I used half a roll of toilet paper wiping my face and Miles’ rearus endus. I scrubbed my mother in law’s bathroom like I need to scrub my own. I never in my life thought I would have a breakdown that, at it’s very center, was ignited by poop. 

Good thing I’m in love with Miles Moore – otherwise…That would be where I draw the line! 😉 Please understand that I am not proud of my occasional potty mouth…I just want to convey the spirit of my humanity. We all get to a place in our lives occasionally, when the only reasonable response seems to be one that contains but four letters. When my head hit the pillow that night, I asked God to help me be better… 

P.S. Don’t give your toddler a bubble bath…You don’t see the log until the bubbles settle…long after the bath is over! XOXO, Beck