All right, I’m coming clean.
I’m a control freak.
Seems like every few months I have to make this cathartic little announcement in order to function in a life that absolutely does NOT allow for controlling everything.
I’ve long been known as “The Plotter” amongst my friends. There’s nothing I like better than planning some huge things and having it come off perfectly (i.e. surprise parties, dinners for 50+, etc). This is a good use of my controlling-type skills because while I might go a little crazy in the planning phases, things do tend to come off beautifully. And if they don’t, I have no one to blame but myself.
There’s also nothing I like better than planning out every minute of every day with my two beautiful girls and my Dear Boy.
I think you can guess how good a use of my skills that is.
Just this morning, I had plans to sleep in after a very disrupted night’s rest before calling the doctor’s office, taking the girls in, bringing them home for lunch, and spending naptime doing something important like hanging my last few pictures in the new house. When the phone rang at 6 a.m., however, I knew it had to be the bus barn calling Dear Boy to come in and drive that morning and that if it was, all my plans would be ruined. As DB jumped out of bed to get the phone before it woke the (finally sleeping) kiddies, I prayed I was wrong. I told God quite plainly that He had no right to do this to me, I WAS sleeping in, and that had BETTER not be the bus barn because, gosh darn it, I wouldn’t stand for it!
It was. And I did.
But not until after I moaned and pouted and guilted DB into calling back to see if anyone else could come. They couldn’t.
See, I needed this kick in the pants. After I dragged myself out of bed and started moving, I realized how childish I was being. DB deserved some extra sleep, too. The kids were sick–it’s not like they were plotting against me (though it did feel like it). I realized that, frankly, if I wanted to insist on being a sour puss about this whole thing I could and then everyone would be miserable.
I’ve been behaving this way for a week or two now: Trying to force everything to go my way. Suddenly, though, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. I can’t control it; it’s not in my hands. The best I can do is adapt to the cards I’m given and, let’s face it, it’s a lot easier to do that than it is to be in charge, once you humble yourself.
So I thank God today for crying babies and early morning phone calls. One of these days I’ll learn to separate useful controlling with useless controlling. Until then He, at least, has enough patience to put up with me and wait.