I go from really quiet to really loud in no time. Today was no exception. The boys and I went to visit my grandma and when we got home we were all grabbing a snack and doing our own thing for a little bit. Decompressing if you will. I had finished chewing a slice of grapefruit I pulled out of the fridge, which was too incredibly cold to genuinely enjoy. It had me in a little funk because I do not keep fruit in the fridge and my mouth was not happy. Therefore I opted to release the upset feeling via a howl. A very loud howl. One that left Otis having an immediate response of yelling at me from upstairs like I was the child. “MOM!” My eyebrow inevitably went up and I tried my best to sound serious when I replied “What happened?” Apparently, he was counting and my howl made him forget. How was I supposed to know? And who put this fucking grapefruit in the fridge? I wish I were not as proud as I am when something like this happens, but I am. So maybe I don’t really wish for anything at all other than more opportunities to be proud…keep putting the fruit in the fridge, there is an upside. 

I made my way over to the pantry because momma was snacky. I have been incredibly snack lately. I hate it but it is happening and I am not going to beat myself up over it (typed as I shove another corn chip in my mouth hole). A blue one. Organic. Sea Salt. 0g Trans Fat andddddd Gluten Free. I say this with emphasis because of a girl’s night in we had this last weekend. Where one of my lady lovers attempted to drag me through the mud on not knowing corn tortilla chips are gluten-free while another pointed out that it had “glutamate” in the ingredients which after only one tequila drink we pronounced as a Spanish word and assumed it meant gluten. No one was going to drag me anywhere. Except to the bar after the night was supposed to end and we were wearing sweatpants and house shoes. I showed up and I smiled. I have entered a period of my life where if you thought I didn’t give a fuck before, look at me now. Proud as fuck too. 

So I am in the pantry and I keep asking my sons “Do you want to know what I am gonna do now?” With my sons, they tend to take turns being on the same page as me or at least being the patient one to deal with my shenanigans. I am an irritating person if you don’t love me. I am also an irritating person if you do. So God gave me twins to balance all the work out, like when they pass the baton in a relay race. I am the baton and Avery happened to be the patient one in this fantastic moment of brat release for me. I would ask and he would answer, “What?” Then I would ask again, “Do you want to know what I am gonna do now?” And he would answer again “What?” We did this whole song and dance about seven more times before he changed his answer to, “Not If you’re going to keep playing this game.” To which I finally replied, “Oh, I thought you weren’t hearing me because you kept asking ‘What?’” There was no laughter, only the sighs of two thirteen-year-old boys exhausted by their mother, and me, said mother, with my Grinch face smushed into the middle shelf of the pantry full of canned goods trying desperately not to let laughter escape because if I did I would lose all control of the situation. Who the fuck plays games like this? I do. 

Where I am ok with letting go of control is in almost everything big in my life. This is new-ish. I think it is an on and off again thing for me. When things get really tough for me, I surrender. I pray and say “ok, sky daddy, you win, show me how it is supposed to go and I will follow.” And he does, he doesn’t even stand in the pantry with green bean labels pressed against his face while holding back laughter, and I definitely cannot see him eating a stiff and cold piece of grapefruit and howling after. But he loves me for doing this, and I love him for giving me two feet on this earth to do so. Hell, I would love him if he did not give me two feet to do so. Just don’t take away my mouth hole. I want to howl into eternity. Now I imagine him saying “Girl, it’s the first thing that’s going to go before you come home to me.” At first I feared my eyesight, now it’s my mouth hole. Lord. Literally. 

I have always had a close relationship with God and with the Universe. Likely in no way “traditional” but in my own way which is even more special to me. You do you with Jesus and me and Jesus do us. I love my relationship with him because sometimes he gets in the pantry with me and we shove our faces into loaves of bread (for better sound absorption) and annoy our children. But always with love, nurturing, kindness, innocence, and for the better good they/we don’t always know is needed. I have been attending church again with a friend. I went to lucky service number three this last weekend. And shit hit hard. I cried (sometimes I laugh and just tell Jesus, “You know me. I am solid but just a little special. Sorry.”) Sometimes it is the music and volume of things. I have a touch of the tis…but this time it was more. This time it was the weight of the room and all the energy in it. I was looking around and taking in what people were pouring out. Pain, desperation, hope, faith, and vulnerability. People were praying for others, holding each other and just creating such positive conversation between them. I see people close like this in bars and in that moment I compared what I felt versus what I feel when it is in a different environment. People are hurting, people need hope. And yes, I will see some of these people in the bar doing the same thing but so differently all while masking their true wants and needs. But in that moment, it was good, it was real, and it was honestly difficult for me to find a dry eye as I scanned a room full of hundreds of people. Including mine, and this time it was not because I am “special” and laugh when things are serious, but rather because it was special to discuss something serious. 

Part of the topic was giving up control, stop trying to do things your way. Let God tell you when it is right, who is right, the right way to do it. The Pastor compared it to his kids getting into a jar of glitter this last week without guidance and supervision and as a result, glitter went everywhere. Glitter being the choices we make carelessly without his approval and supervision, without his blessing, and then Jesus having to clean up the mess and sweeping up all of the glitter. It made me feel sad because it is not just your God (or yourself if you don’t believe in a God) that is sweeping up glitter for the rest of your life. It is everyone you care for, your children, those around you who you love and love you. And let’s be real, glitter is like me, it never goes away, even when you want it to (insert howl).