Normal I Am

I've been called a lot of things in my life, but one that strikes me as kind of funny is when I'm called...

NORMAL.

Because I don't tend to view myself as normal. At all.

In fact, I feel a lot of pressure at times because I feel like I'm not living up to what normal should be. Exactly who gets to decided what normal is, I'm not sure. But I've never felt like I quite fit into that mold.

I still don't know if normal is the right word, but I'm beginning to believe that my life is pretty indicative of the truth that lies behind a lot of doors. And I'm coming to realize that the perception of perfection is one that is just that...a perception. That we tend to struggle with putting our best faces forward, with coming off as having it all figured out, and with having life figured out.

I struggled with issues of authenticity a few months ago. Specifically related to the blog world. I'm not going to rehash all I hashed out then, but I did make a promise to myself after that season. I promised that I would keep it real. Because to pretend that I don't have koolaide stains all over my living room carpet is lieing to you. Truth is....not only are there stains, but I haven't even bothered to dig out the Resolve to try and get them out. Just keepin' it real.

So back to normal.

If koolaide stains are normal, then normal I am.

If not really caring about the processed cheese out of a blue box with a big orange dinosaur on the front that I feed my children is normal, then normal I am.

If spending too much money on really cute orange wedgey shoes only for them to rub blisters all over my feet is normal, then normal I am.

If leaving half empty bottles of antibiotic in the fridge because I forget to give the boys their meds once they start "feeling better" is normal, then normal I am.

If digging out the beach towels for the family to use as bath towels because every.single.bath.towel.we.own. is dirty is normal, then normal I am.

If reading blogs instead of washing bath towels is normal, then normal I am.

If feeding the children cereal for dinner because I don't want to stop reading blogs is normal, then normal I am.

If forgetting to reapply sunscreen on the red head at the pool because I'm too busy chatting with my friends is normal, then normal I am.

If I sometimes wish the husband would go fishing with his buddies just so that I can watch what I want to on tv and have some alone time is normal, then normal I am.

If I'm actually looking forward to sending the kids to their grandparents for a few days just so that I can have a break is normal, then normal I am.

If I don't change the sheets on the beds as often as Martha Stewart says I should is normal, then normal I am.

If hating to clean toilets is normal, then normal I am.

If being guilty of hitting the snooze button through my alone time with Jesus is normal, then normal I am.

If knowing that sun is bad for my skin but am vain enough that I tan anyway just for the sake of tanning is normal, then normal I am.

If not answering the phone just because I don't feel like talking is normal, then normal I am.

If not planting flowers in the pots on my sidewalk just because I don't feel like it and know that they will die anyway is normal, then normal I am.

If only buying apples, bananas, and potatoes out of the produce section is normal, then normal I am.

One thing in my quest for authenticity was to stop trying to pretend like I had it altogether. I don't. My house is usually messy. My laundry is usually not caught up. I spend way too much time on the computer. I am an impulse shopper. I hire the television as a babysitter more often than not. I hate to take my kids outside to play because I hate bugs and weeds. I have cellulite. There is garbage in my yard on most days because my dog gets in our trash at least once a week. I run my car out of gas. I bite my nails. And there is a spiderweb in the corner of my dining room that has been there for a month.

I'm happier since I've come to terms with admitting that I don't have it all figured out. I envy those of you that truly do. And pray for those of you that still feel like pretense is key.

And about normal...I guess, the more I think about it...we're all pretty normal.

Because I don't really think normal hinges on whether asparagus bundles or mac-n-cheese is served at dinner. Or whether we homeschool or public school. Or whether we devote our days to mops and brooms or books and blogs.

For I think if loving our Jesus more than anything, adoring our husbands more than life, and holding our children as precious treasures is normal, then normal we are.