Middle school followed me to 40...

No, seriously. Sometimes I feel like I'm still the same insecure tween inside a grown woman's body.

Last weekend, my family was invited to a rather large, but lovely gathering. There were a few people I knew, and a few I did not. And there were about a bazillion kids. Because we live in the Hill Country, and we hill country folk love our young 'uns.

When I enter a social situation, it requires a lot of energy. I know I come off like a complete extrovert, but that is a funky facade. There is a crazy tension between dying to be heard and dying to hide that occurs each and every time I enter a party-like atmosphere. I either don't talk at all, grab the nearest baby and keep myself busy, or become a talking machine that WILL NOT SHUT UP.

This particular night, I chose the latter. A couple of the women asked me what to expect from public school, because their families are making the switch. Even as I babbled on and on about volunteering and making friends with people who know the teachers and blah, blah, blah, I was having an out of body experience. I was hovering over the room, yelling at myself to JUST BE QUIET, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! WHY ARE YOU USING SO MANY WORDS? But I ignored myself. I was determined to leave the lasting impression that I'm a crazy person.

By the time I got home that night, I knew what I SHOULD have said. I should have said that if the Lord has called your family to public school (or home school or private school), He will be faithful to equip you AND your children. He loves them so much more than you ever will, and you can trust that He's led you here for a reason. Simple, right? But simple always alludes me in a room full of women I want to be friends with.

So, sweet cooler-than-I'll-ever-be women that I met on Monday night, if you're reading this (although I have no idea how or why you would), please have a little grace. Apparently, on the inside, I'm still 14.