Liar, liar, pants on fire...

I have one major pet peeve. There are very few things that send me over the edge, but the one thing that always gets me is when someone lies. To my face. Like I am stupid.

Unfortunately, in my line a work, the lies abound and come fast. A teacher can spot a lie a mile away.

So can a mother.

However, children often think that they are much more intelligent than their parents, and often, when feeling particularly bold, will make an attempt to make their point.

The worst is when adults tell lies in a weak attempt to deflect controversy, problems, or conflict. The problem with that theory is that usually, when the lie is discovered, the consequences are much worse.

It seems that there has been a whole lot of lying going on around here. And frankly, I am sick of it.

Our laptop's charger died about a week ago. I called our extended warranty and order a new one under our policy. It was to be delivered today.

My husband was home early due to a rabid migraine. I stayed at work later than usual to keep the children away, since nothing makes a migraine worse than having a house full of loud school aged boys. I picked up Joshua, headed to the local market for some tomatoes and headed home.

We unloaded the car, got in the house. I checked email, paid some bills online and decided to track my package. Imagine my surprise when it said it had been delivered almost 2 hours earlier! I stepped outside, checked the front of the house, the back of the house, called my neighbor to see if they had delivered it by error there. Nothing.

I called the shipping company and was promptly informed that I needed to contact the shipper so that they could initiate a claim. I did just that.

After being passed around to three different departments, and put on hold for 20 minutes, I started to give the man my information when I noticed a box in the playroom that my boys were attempting to restore to order. Shipped today. Open with a packing slip out, confirming what I was now suspecting. With said cord out.

I hastily hung up, mortified. Did what I think just happened, happen?

No one admitted to it.

So no one is allowed back in the playroom until someone 'fesses up.

It would have been easier to spot the liar with the smoking arse, though.

I interrogated everyone in my house under the age of 37. Everyone pleaded innocence, ignorance and shock at being considered a suspect.

There was a lot of finger pointing and prodding mom into thinking that a box can just walk into a house, clear it, and open itself.

I am mad.

But more than that, disappointed. Disappointed that they didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Disappointed in myself for badgering them with relentless questioning. Disappointed that I can't uncover the truth.

And the worst part is that I know that I could have handled it differently. I know that I should not have been so irate at being on the phone, telling the man on the other line that the shipping company had most surely NOT delivered what was in my plain sight.

Tonight, I feel like a liar. Because a good mom would have trusted that her kids were telling her the truth. Because I felt like crap when my middle son started tearing up, wondering how to trust me when I was clearly not showing him that I trust him.

Because I alone have made it that much harder for them to tell me the truth.

Truth: I think that damned box did just sprout some legs and walked right into our house, parked itself in by far the coolest room in the house, and decided to disrobe, letting all its cords hang out.

Either that or UPS has gotten a little too efficient in their delivery techniques, you know?

Walking away from it all...

30 for 30 on ESPN premiered a documentary on last month titled Run, Ricky, Run. (Yes, I watch ESPN with my husband, at times, when he is REALLY, REALLY good). The documentary was on Ricky Williams, who is a running back for the Miami Dolphins.

Ricky Williams is famous for being a great football player.

But Ricky Williams is most famous for flunking drug test after drug test, and basically, walking away from football, a multimillion dollar contract, and leaving everyone scratching their heads, saying, "Huh?"

I was one of the hundreds of thousands of people who just couldn't understand how someone as talented as him could basically, in the eyes of others, just screw up their life because of marijuana. That was the story the media, the Dolphins organization and players put out there.

Ricky's version was slightly different.

Ricky had a rough upbringing. He played football. He was good. He tried to fit the mold. And he found that he couldn't do it.

The documentary chronicles his time after leaving the Dolphins and the National Football League. He spent some time in Australia, he studied yoga and holistic healing. He was trying to find himself.

Unlike the majority of the NFL players out there, he was not willing to sell his soul for money. Instead, he walked away, chose to work on himself, as he said, "Get my head straight."

And everyone rushed to judge, to condemn.

How many of us would walk away from seeming happiness, to the ridicule of others, to better ourselves? To walk the long windy roads into the dark part of ourselves, to work out those issues that have left us emotionally stifled and unable to enjoy the prosperity of our talents?

How twisted have we become as a society that we can feel qualified to pass judgment upon others, regardless of how little or how much we know of others?

And yet, I was one of them.

I thought he was ignorant. A druggie who couldn't control his addiction.

He was fighting his demons.

As I watched the other night, I came to understand this man's journey back to himself. At the beginning of the time chronicled, his voice sounded devoid of emotion, just dead. As the documentary continues, and he makes progress, you can see the light return to this man's eyes, life back in his voice.

And I wonder how many of his critics have ever chosen money over themselves. How many have sacrificed their families and happiness to get ahead?

Is the victory really worth the lives you destroy on the way to the top? How many will be cheering for you if you are not genuine with yourself? How can you be honest with anyone, if you cannot stand to look at yourself in the mirror?

How can you love anyone if you cannot love yourself?

Perhaps, I am an old softie at heart. Perhaps, I am too easily swayed by emotions and claims of renewed lives. But I was swayed.

At the end of the documentary, we have watched this tormented man reach within himself, dig himself out, and DONE something FOR HIMSELF.

He is a yogi.

He has studied holistic medicine.

He is a better father.

He is a husband.

He has made something out of himself, and can now share it with others.

He has proven to everyone that sometimes, you just need to walk away from it all before you can come back to it.

That takes courage.

It takes faith.

And it is always worth it, if you find what you are looking for.