sometimes we have to let our mascara drip

In the day-to-day life of adulthood, we try to put on our brave face.  Our best face forward.  Our professional and put-together facade.  It's one of the reasons why weekends are so precious.  And why grown people rejoice over the notion of "dress-down Fridays."  (Really?  Do khakis and sockless moccasins truly make us that happy?)

When I get dressed in my "professional Lori" garb, my kids and I joke that I am becoming "Business Barbie".  Even at their tender ages, they see me putting on the mask that I wear for the world.

This past weekend, I took my kids to an indoor water park at a "resort" called Great Wolf Lodge.  To anyone who knows me, I would usually choose a dental cleaning to a trip to something like Chuck E. Cheese, so this was really planned for my kids.

Upon arrival, we got settled, scoped out our options, and headed for the water park.  They immediately "carp-ayed-the-diem" and went for the water.  I gingerly enjoyed the water in all the ways that one can, without ruining my mascara and hair (which turns into a Q-tip upon contact with water).  I bravely did the arms hanging from a rope bridge thing above the pool, hopping from one foam lilypad to the next.  (We can talk about how sore my arms were in another blog about my delusions of physical strength).

The I went into the wave pool, and perched gracefully (in my mind; this is my blog, remember?) on a clear inner tube with handles.  I bounced along with the waves, participating in the joy with my kids.  And then I flipped.  And submerged.  And when I re-entered the surface, and breathed, I was, in a sense, reborn.  Hair: toast.  Mascara: the stuff of horror movies.  There was no going backwards now.

I went into the ladies room, and washed off all mascara remnants.  Business Barbie had gone home for the day.  I rentered the indoor waterpark, and enthusiastically, without abandon, became a large and probably embarrassingly happy child for the remainder of the day.  My children delighted in my standing under the tipping water bucket with me (think Titanic; this is not for the meek).  We giggled and sang as we rowed our rafts.  We even ate french fries and onion rings as a snack.  Complete and utter abandon.

It was joyful.  I wonder what would happen if we conducted ourselves in our daily lives without self-consciousness and motive.  If we didn't interact with the unconscious goal of appearing smart, groomed, successful, socially acceptable, popular, "cool"...how would we behave?  Would anarchy break loose?  Would we be nicer?  Meaner? 

I like structure.  And I like the confines of civilized society in the most basic form.  But I could do without pretense.  Genuine people are genuinely rare.  And genuine laughter feels really good.  Let your mask drip all over your face and embrace the freedom once in a while.  It might be enlightening, and it certainly feels good.  Ask a kid.