Trading Typical

"So trade that typical for something colorful, and if it's crazy, live a little crazy."-- 'The Other Side' from The Greatest Showman. Music and lyrics by Justin Paul and Benj Pasek

I know, I know, that movie is so last year. But it's also the only music my three-year-old daughter will consent to in the car. Especially now that Christmas is over. We pretty much give the little one what she wants because she's scary. Especially when I'm driving.

Anyway, The Greatest Showman is a breathtaking, beautiful musical on the life of PT Barnum. Sort of. They took a lot of poetic license. But it's the story that matters. And since I am a lover of stories, as I've said before and will likely say in almost every post, I forgive their historical discrepancies and wholeheartedly love this film. It's colorful, musical, and hopeful. Clearly, something I would love.

So I've had a year to listen to the music, to notice little lyrical things, and subtleties. Yet, just yesterday when my son requested we skip to 'The Other Side' after indulging his sister in the title track, something new hit me.

Usually I'm the PT in this song. I've been a wide-eyed dreamer literally my entire life. I cannot remember a time when I didn't daydream and imagine. And sing. And dance. The dancing was bad. I digress. There were a few awkward years--you know the ones, about fifth grade to ninth grade--where I was uncomfortable in my own skin, uncertain of who I was, and if anyone would even like that person anyway. Eventually, I came into my own (perhaps a story for another time), and I loved my vibrant, vivacious, loquacious, gregarious personality.

But now I'm a grown up. And I'm tired. (Can I get a witness?) I've had my fair share of moving and losing friends and the pregnancy hormones and the post-partum hormones and the 'I don't know what is happening anymore' hormones and sleep deprivation and the ever-present 'mental load'... It's like I've lost myself. Oh, and adding to my insecurity, I'm a home educator. Much to my own surprise.

I never imagined I would chose to be one of those weirdos. Honestly. However, when my son was preschool age and we couldn't afford preschool, I started doing research. On all kinds of things really--homeschooling options, the effects of Common Core, studies on early childhood education. I came to the conclusion that home educating our kids was the right choice for our family.

Let me tell you how many times since I've questioned that right choice. Well, actually, I can't. I've lost count. I lost the peace of my decision because I've been comparing my son and myself to everyone around us. Truly, everyone. Public schoolers, private schoolers, homeschoolers, unschoolers. I've been trying to measure up my son to see if he's doing okay. The poor kid. I keep changing rulers! If we do THIS, if we do THAT, if we focus HERE, if we redirect THERE. I've compared him to every kid we know and even some we don't! And me? Oh, man, I've been even harder on myself. Did you know that everyone  in the entire world is more put together than me? That every other homeschooling mom is successful and I'm a ding-dong?

You see, I've lost myself. I've lost the confidence in who I am and so I can't share confidence with my kids in who we are. I keep leading us in circles looking for some kind of affirmation or approval. And those circles keep getting smaller and smaller, hemming us into little spaces we were never meant to live in. Choking off the natural curiosity, creativity, and wide-eyed wonder I used to pride myself in, and that which my children have quite naturally.

This is where the song comes in. In the bridge of the song, PT slows down to tell Philip (the young aristocrat he hopes will invest in the show) exactly what's at stake here. Philip has just told him in no uncertain terms, "if I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town--disgrace and disowned, another one of the clowns!"

But PT replies....

"But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little

Just let me give you the freedom to dream 

And it'll wake you up and cure your aching

Take your walls and start 'em breaking

Now that's a deal that seems worth taking

But I guess I'll leave that up to you" 

So I'm driving the car, singing along with Hugh Jackman and my son, and it just hits me like lightning. I'm Philip. I'm afraid to be different. I'm afraid to lose some kind of public approval. I'm afraid to do something in my own way. I don't want to take risks in case it's 'wrong'. 

I've been listening to some podcasts lately, particularly those of Sally Clarkson (At Home With Sally and Friends), Joy Clarkson (Speaking with Joy), Sarah MacKenzie (Read-Aloud Revival), and Julie Bogart (Brave Writer). The Brave Writer podcast specifically cut straight through the fog of comparison and the haze of doubt I've been swimming in for months. Listening to Julie, I realized that my instincts are totally right and I'm messing this all up by worrying too much about what everyone else is doing. Like a kid at school that can't keep her eyes on her own paper, I need to just hunker down and keep my eyes on my own work. *Commence building mini-fort with folders*

Look again at those lyrics. There are some powerful words there. Live a little. Laugh a little. Freedom to dream. Wake you up. Cure your aching. Take your walls and start 'em breaking. That's everything I believe in on paper. That's how I describe myself to everyone except myself deep inside. That cranky little narrator in my head has gotten the wrong stage notes or something. THIS! This is who God created me to be. I knew it when I was a kid, and I figured it out again around fifteen and held on okay through college. But somehow in the ups and downs and melee of adulting, I started berating myself for all that I'm not, instead of believing in who God says I am and who He created me to be. And it's absolutely worked it's way into my abilities to teach my kids.

I think all parents need to throw off the bonds of comparison and the ubiquitous messages that we're messing up our kids. Even more so, as a home educating parent, I have to stop. We are different. We are a little weird, we're not like everyone else. I have to stop expecting us to look like everyone else. I mean, duh. I've been slow on the uptake--it's the sleep deprivation and lack of alone time.

"Forget the cage, 'cause we know how to make the key! Oh, damn! Suddenly we're free to fly."

This song has been stuck in my head for a couple days now. My son and I take turn finishing each other's lyrics when one of us starts singing it mid-chorus. (Lest you worry that my six-year-old is singing the "oh damn" part...he thinks the lyrics are "up, down"...and I just haven't corrected him). But we are suddenly free to fly. Together. As I re-learn how to trade the typical for something colorful, he'll learn with me that being who God created you to be is really the only way to live. That ignoring the voices--even the mean ones inside your own head--and trusting in the Lord is the only way to make choices. That we have freedom in Christ (even a command) to be different. And the cure for aching is in the workload and rest of Jesus, because His burden is light. 

If you need me, I'll be making fresh memories with the kids where I'm less stressed out and more likely to be having tea parties and teddy bear picnics. And more than likely, The Greatest Showman will be playing in the background because we give the little one what she wants.