Sometimes I wonder about delivery.

Not, say Chinese food delivery because of that I do not need to wonder.

Mmmmmmm.

Delivery, as in, the way you intent for something to come across versus the way it actually comes across in real life.

Take, for example, a recent conversation.

Me: You know I’m really sick when I leave the house without any makeup on!

Her: You know what, Ali? Nobody even cares.

(I’m not the only one with a WTF face…)

So. One could look at this the way I did, which was OHMYGOD, ouch. That’s a pretty cold-hearted thing to say. But, stepping back out of my superemotional skin for a minute, one could look at it another way, the way it was probably intended. What she probably meant here was that it doesn’t matter if I wore makeup or didn’t wear makeup, I am beautiful (ARE YOU SINGING CHRISTINA RIGHT NOW?) either way, so I probably shouldn’t stress about the fact that I have a raging case of strep throat and am dragging my sorry behind out of the house to buy a much-needed coffee maker that isn’t a Keurig.

Probably.

But still, in the moment when the words came tumbling out, I wished that she could collect them all up and shove them back down from whence they came without stopping to worry about whether or not whence is an actual word.

I think it is. 

I have been there before. Hoo boy. So many times. I have walked away from conversations bewildered. “Did I REALLY just say that?” But, of course, it’s too late to go back an clarify what I really meant. I can’t just flash my Inigo Montoya-esque “I do not think it means what you think it means.” I have wanted to chase down all my words and make them disappear and shout from the rooftops that I really am actually a very nice person and, well, I’m much better online, where I am both funnier and in possession of that wonderful thing we call time—to formulate thoughts and ideas. The beauty of writing online is that I actually have in my possession a wonderful thing called the delete key that I use often. I look at a sentence or tweet or facebook status and I’m able to wonder aloud, “Will this offend anyone?” and I have the ability to edit, edit, edit.

Sometimes I’m sloppy and I, you know, hurt the feelings of famous authors.

Sometimes when Josh says, “Hey…why did Isabella get a bigger piece of cake?” I answer with a sarcastic “Because I love her more” only it was much more sarcastic and much funnier in my head.

Sometimes I have to blush while removing my foot from my mouth.

So I’m working it. Delivery. Intention vs. execution.

I wish I could be more like my kid and just walk around and say things like,

“I LOVE YOU MORE THAN WHIPPED CREAM.”

Because her intention? She loves me a heck of a lot.

And her execution? She loves me MORE than a heck of a lot. Dude…more than whipped cream? A mother couldn’t really ask for anything better from a first grader.

I’m going to practice being more like my little girl.