The Bathroom

Playing house. Did you ever play house as a kid? We probably all did in some form or another. Even boys, they get roped into it by their sisters or playing with action hero’s. There is always one or two dominant people and the others have certain roles. You get the point. I’m not quite sure I ever felt like I transitioned over from that teenager dating to that young adult being married. I don’t think I ever felt like I was grown up enough to be married. Even when I had my son. I still felt like I was playing house. Just a set of steps to follow. These are the things you do now because you are married. I had this idea in my head that when I turned 30, because that was the magic number, I would have it all together. I would be a WOMAN!! I would be disciplined. Getting up every morning reading my bible before anyone in the house was up, having breakfast on the table for my husband and waking my sweet perfect child so we could all eat together before he went to work. Somewhere in there I think I had a dress on and there were several birds following me whistling as I twirled around opened the windows and talked to the squirrel and the deer. Yes that was to be my life. Hahahaha Disney oh how you tease. Needless to say I couldn’t even manage to read my bible before everyone was up and Wyatt was lucky if he got a pop tart thrown at him on the way out the door. Looking back I just needed to lighten up on myself. Nobody was putting the pressure on except for me. God wasn’t, Wyatt wasn’t and JT certainly was not. I was expecting a strict routine from myself. Routine is good, a schedule is good. Do any of you breathe or get out of bed in the morning? Yes, that’s what I thought. You can have the best schedule or routine in the world. There is always something or someone to jack knife that joker and mess up your whole week. A sick child, sick pet, sick husband, you didn’t sleep, stopped up toilet, car won’t start, I mean I could go on and on and on. Your schedule or routine is no good if your angry and yelling at everybody or you read your bible and have no idea what you read. If you go to work and you are the office complainer every day and everyone sees you coming and runs the other way. God doesn’t want our leftovers neither does your spouse or your children. I put myself under so much pressure to not let anyone see that I wasn’t doing all the things I was supposed to be doing that I had to crack somewhere. So I did. I would crack at night alone in my bathroom, only once a week or every other week. It wasn’t very often. Me and my vodka tonic all by ourselves. Baby in the bed, no husband at home, he had a motorcycle so he would go riding or maybe if he was home he would play poker on line, he’s not going to bother me. I deserved a few moments alone. I had a drink downstairs at dinner or before dinner but this one was mine. No talking, no phone ringing, no Mommy just me. Then I could step out of the bathroom and not worry about being perfect. I’ll think about that tomorrow Scarlett, for tomorrow is another day.

In all of that who was I really working to please. Not anyone that loved me. Myself. The people that love me, love me for who I am not for what I can do for them and God certainly loves me because he created me and died for me and wants me to come to him just as I am. I woke up this morning thinking about what I needed to do today and my schedule and that hit me. You have things to get done but the most important thing is spending time with God each day. If you do that as part of something to get done so you can check it off your list, did you really visit with God? Did you talk to him? Did you pray with him? Did you worship and praise him? I have to make sure I don’t get caught up in checking things off and making people see what I want them to see or I’ll wind up alone with a glass in the bathroom again. I’ld rather be outside with a water bottle surrounded by my family.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: