Thunder

What are you doing?

Are you looking for something? 

Can I help you find it?

Oh. Your thunder.

Sorry.

I've probably stolen it.

My family tells me I have a problem. Although I agree with the premise of their theory, I just don't see it as an actual problem. More of a... quirk. Yes. I have a quirk.

No. It's a problem.

In fairness to me, I don't TRY to steal my family's thunder. I just get so freaking proud of them sometimes that it bubbles up and overflows out of my face before I can stop it. I live vicariously through my children, so when wonderful things happen to them, it's really like they're happening to me, so when I tell everyone else about it, it's kind of like sharing my own good news.

Wait. That's creepy.

I WANT them to share their own joy with others, but they do it so SLOWLY! If when wonderful things happened to them, they would immediately call Grandma, email Auntie Jamie, and text Auntie Lana, then I wouldn't HAVE to post things all over Facebook. And Facebook makes it so EASY! I can tell the whole world something in the eleven seconds it takes me to type it into my phone with my giant thumbs! They're driving me to it.

Now I sound like the guy on Court TV who 'feels bad that dude got killed', without mentioning that he was the one who did it.

I don't tell EVERYONE'S secrets. I have kept several good secrets over the past 30 odd years, and I am damn good at it. (For example, Emily Popp still has NO idea where on the playground we buried her toque). There is a difference between the secrets of your immediate family and the secrets of others, and I would never share the intimate details of someone I didn't live with. You behave differently with family than you do with everyone else.

Oh, for crying in the sink. Now I have selective mutism and multiple personality disorder.

How about some honesty...

I HAVE A GIANT FAT MOUTH. I TALK CONSTANTLY. MY FILTER IS BROKEN. I AM UTTERLY INCAPABLE OF KEEPING MY FAMILY'S SECRETS FOR LONGER THAN IT TAKES ME TO FIND MY PHONE.

When I was pregnant with Eva, Isaiah and I decided to find out the sex of the baby, and Liz and Jason didn't. What a horrible idea. For four months, I did beautifully, biting my tongue and hiding any gender-specific baby supplies, right up till 6 days before her birth, when I announced to Jason that once I washed the last of the new dresses, we would be all ready for baby to come.

I cried for three days. He was less disturbed, but he said "I told you so" for a week. And I let him.

The reason this has once again become an issue is because my eldest child recently had two amazing opportunities come up. None of my kids EVER does two wonderful things at once, so I've never been faced with this dilemma before. I thought I actually did a really good job- maybe not of keeping everything quiet, but of dispersing the information in such a way that no one knew EVERYTHING. I told my neighbour about the possible promotion at work, and waited until a night he was working before I told my best friends all about it at dinner. I mentioned his phone interview for school (the last step in the application process) to Jamie, but made Lana wait till the following weekend before I said anything to her. I dropped a few broad hints that the next time he saw them, he may or may not have some REALLY good news for them, but didn't share what that might be. Of course, I told my cousin all about it, knowing full well we had just been there for Easter and she wouldn't see him again for a few months, so she HAD to be told, and I told my online weight loss support group EVERYTHING, because none of them actually know me outside Facebook (ok- except the two friends also doing the challenge with me, but I've seen their before pictures, so I know they will take my secrets to their graves). I nonchalantly mentioned to Liz that she should ask her brother how his interview went, told Squid to ask him how he likes his job these days, and when I TRIED to interest Jason in a tidbit of information, he shut me right down (in quite a self-righteous tone, I thought.)

I even kept all my Facebook posts to a cryptic "!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

All that work, and when the poor kid walked in the door the one night, Liz immediately told him "Mom says you might get a promotion!". Jason congratulated him on acing the phone interview for school, and rotten, rotten Squiddy announced that I had been crying all afternoon because I was so excited for him, and could he please have his room when he left. Each and every one of them threw me under the bus.

It's gotten so bad that when we and our best friends took him out for drinks the other night, and I asked him to share his good news with everyone, he got all confused and flustered and didn't know what to do and mumbled something about really enjoying his drink. He has no idea how to share his own thunder.

I need a twelve step program.

I would start one myself, but I'm pretty sure one of the basic tenets is anonymity. One look at a room full of people I wasn't supposed to talk about and I'd be right back to step one.

Every. Single. Time.