My mouth and I have been struggling for years to come up with some kind of amicable agreement during certain periods. Read my previous blog called “Shelley’s Theory of Social Behavior (Or Maybe it’s Misbehavior?)” and you’ll get an even better idea of just what I mean. At this point in the game I’m relatively certain that we are going to have to just agree to disagree on some things. Like the numerous times my brain has been filled with the perfect words to orate in a given situation but my mouth has either refused to open or has jumbled the entire rhetoric into something similar to mushed pulp. Or, on the flip side, the frequency with which my lips open and my tongue wags only to spew forth a magnitude of embarrassment when I would much prefer the whole contraption would have been placed under lock and key. 
As the director of a private school I tried to be very careful about using my mouth in any kind of potentially inappropriate manner. In retrospect I really should have pried the thing open much more frequently. It had a lot to say, especially when we made the decision to close. But, too often my jaw clamped shut and the words never came. Believe me, my mouth and I have discussed that problem and at this point we are chalking it up to a lesson learned. Sometimes it’s just too bad if someone gets their feelings hurt or finds out just how wrong they really are.
And then there are the other occasions. The times when my mouth opens and I cram my foot as far inside as possible and then proceed to suck on the darn thing for the entire evening. This problem goes way back. As a kid I had an issue with saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Like when at the age of twelve I asked our newly hired band teacher if the guy he’d replaced had been fired. Not really a socially acceptable question. And then there was the afternoon my grandmother and brothers and I were headed to the store. I couldn’t have been much more than five years old. Grandma drove into the parking lot and some guy in a brown Chevy pulled out in front of her. She slammed on her brakes and I proudly sat up in my seat, glared at the guy through the car window, and called him an SOB.
All things considered, the behavior of my mouth should be dependent upon the situation and definitely on the company I’m holding. But, that’s not always the case. My youngest daughter will never forget the time I jokingly suggested we buy her uncle a blow up doll for Christmas. I’m thinking that may not have been an appropriate suggestion to my then seventeen year old? She still brings it up as one of my more humiliating ideas that truly never should have been spoken out loud.
Too much information, jokes that could be construed as offensive, and a jumble of useless data – these are some of the tidbits that have been known to flow forth. And it’s only worse if I happen to have a drink somewhere within my reach. One sip and I’ll gladly spill my guts, and then I’ll spill your guts, and if anyone else happens to be around I’ll spill theirs too.
Fortunately my mouth and I aren’t always at odds. It does know how to express love and appreciation, humor, and quite often well thought out ideas. My brain and my mouth do, for the most part, have a positive and fairly well run relationship. It’s just those few occasions where my mouth goes awry and steps out on its own.
The relational rift happens to all of us – my husband, my friends, and even my kids. We all say things we regret and we all have things we wish we would say but don’t. That amicable relationship may never fully come about, just do your best. Most of it can be forgiven. And I still think a blow up doll is a funny idea!
Shelley's Sagacious Slants 