I used to shop at Bebe and Arden B.  I know, I know – hard to believe but it’s true.  The fall of 2004 I saw this Bebe gold chain metal hobo bag (yes, you read that right) in a magazine and just HAD to have it.  Never mind that it was cheaply made and overpriced and completely impractical – it was flashy and looked like I was wearing a disco ball on my arm.  Sold.  This bag greatly mystified the guy I was dating at the time.  A very kind boy – but completely wrong for me in every way.  I’m sure he had NO idea what to do with me and my Studio 54 bag – no, scratch that, I KNOW he didn’t know what to do with me, hence the reason we only lasted a brief two months.  All of that being said, if it weren’t for that boy and that purse what happened next might never have occurred. The boy and the purse both accompanied me to a birthday party.  I don’t remember who it was for anymore – but I do remember this very stylish girl walking up to me and asking me what “her” name was – meaning, yes, the purse.  Well – I thought, “Who is this lovely person and why haven’t I met her before?”  Honestly, I was so smitten by her bubbly personality that I just had to get her email and proceeded to pursue her.  I’ve done that a few times in my adult life – you know when you just instantly “click” with someone and it’s really effortless and easy and you just HAVE to be friends?  That’s the way it was with her. I have a million and one stories about my dear friend Emily… How we sat on countless back porches and front steps ruminating over dating and our Christian faith and everything in between. How she was the person I called after my first date with Vann.  A date I wasn’t even sure was a date because I’d never been taken on an actual date before.  Picked up the phone in the middle of the night so I could discuss the play-by-play. How she was the person I called after we got engaged, seven months later, and then helped me plan my wedding, co-threw me the most charming lingerie shower ever, took me honky-tonk dancing for my “last night out” (and wore cowboy boots), and flew to Texas to stand up next to me as my Maid of Honor (sharing the job with my Matron of Honor, my dear friend Liz).  How she kept me sane by sharing a room with me the night before my wedding, yelling at the people in the hallway to “keep it down because the Bride is trying to get her beauty sleep”.  How our mutual love of makeup and her natural talent led her to graciously agree to do my makeup for my wedding. How we flew halfway across the world to Italy for our honeymoon and I was so overwhelmed/exhausted by the entire wedding extravaganza that I called her just to chat (and cry, ‘cause that’s how I roll, although not because of Vann – he always wants me to make that clear)…from Rome, Florence, and Venice. How she was there with me through both of my pregnancies – brought sugar-free candy to my house when I called her sobbing, having just found out I had gestational diabetes and had to DIET while pregnant, stayed with me in the room before both surgeries, held my babies when they were hours old, and brought in sushi and champagne to celebrate our growing family. It would take me hours and hours to tell every Emily story – there is so much more: showing up for each and every milestone in my young family’s life, every graduation, every baby dedication…she has cut up pineapple for a baby luau and stirred punch at a 2nd year birthday party.  All of this with the most loving, most giving, most gracious heart I’ve ever known.  She has never complained, just shown up.  She has been there, through everything.  Through a cross-country move to Texas and saying goodbye and miles between us that make it difficult sometimes to connect.  I could go on about my selfishness and how difficult it is to be my friend sometimes – she knows it all too well.  I look back over our 8 year friendship and I know I have failed her many times.  But she remains a constant, someone who never keeps score or says a bad word about anyone.  She loves my family, adores my children, and I’m so happy to say that she and my husband are very dear friends.  I am so thrilled to write that my dear Emily is getting married…and my heart is filled to the brim with joy!!  Because there really is no one who deserves it more. Congrats, my love, from our whole clan… …and Mitzi.

Motherhood is tough, no doubt about it.  But for all the challenges there are just as many (if not more) joys, and if you are blessed with a great group of friends in this stage of life you can (hopefully) learn to view life with a little humor and yes, sarcasm. So for all the mamas out there – this one’s for you.  I wrote it last Mother’s Day, but I think it still rings true!  In honor of Mother’s Day, I give you: Amanda’s Do’s and Don’ts of Expert Motherhood 1. Do let your 4 year old make her own breakfast. Then you can sleep a little longer. 2. Don’t EVER, whatever you do, be on time for ANYTHING. Always leave your house with only 5 minutes to spare. Really. It makes the day go so much smoother. 3. Do throw Nemo fruit snacks and M & M’s at your child. All day long. Just to get them to STOP bothering you. 4. Do forget about ever having the time to read a book. 5. Or, just get your magazine reading fix in while your children pummel each other. Every so often you can look up and yell, “Stop that!” or “Seriously??” just to get your point across. 6. Do beware the witching hour(s) between 3 pm and 5:30 pm. These will seem like the longest hours of your life, but I promise, if you have another Mom to drink with, the time will pass by much quicker. 7. Do invest in cute baseball caps. 8. Do leave your Mom “trappings” all over your house. Really. Your husband will LOVE it. That includes but is not limited to: Hoodies, Flip Flops, and your iPhone which you are constantly uploading with new Disney music. 9. Don’t let your stash of emergency junk food get low. Sometimes all it takes to feel more in control is to stand in your pantry and binge on chocolate-covered Peeps. 10. And finally, Do take a deep breath and take it all in – because the days are long but the years are short, as “they” say. Someday you will actually be able to go to the potty in peace – but where’s the fun in that??

Ugh. 

I am feeling SO defeated today!  We have entered Sassyville.  Have you been there before?  My 4 year old is the reigning Queen.  What is UP with the blatant refusal to listen to anything I say?  To be consistently UNgrateful for anything I try to do for her.  The still-present issues of sharing and being kind to her sister.  I just canNOT figure this kid out.  At any rate, I know this is all beginning in the land of girls but I am just so fed up and so…worried too.  If I raise my voice one too many times is she going to remember me as “that” mommy?  Will she carry these days into her adolescence and then adulthood and never forgive me for the piece of our cat’s birthday cake (yes, we celebrate her birthday) that I withheld from her?? It is astonishing to me how often I feel like a total failure as a parent.  Am I doing ANYTHING to help grow her into a well-adjusted, kind-hearted, loving member of society?? I do believe this is all a part of someone’s grand scheme to knock me down off the pedestal of last weekend’s conference: Me, thinking out loud to myself – “Oh, so now I’m a bad parent too??  It’s not enough that I’m a mediocre wife, friend and writer as well??” As Beth Moore would say, I need a “supernatural confidence”.  Amen to that – do I ever!  So I’ve been thinking a lot about the armor of God this week – you know, the age old passage in Ephesians that we all learned at church camp? Ephesians 6:10-20 New International Version (NIV)

The Armor of God

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Spiritual warfare is real…and you’d better believe the devil makes it his business to root around and find the chinks in your armor.  Is it insecurity?  Envy?  Worry?  Pride? 13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. How many of you are exhausted by 5 pm?  Ready to throw in the towel?  You muster out a quick dinner/bathtime routine and move things along until you can CLOCK OUT.  Wouldn’t it be better if by the end of the day you aren’t just phoning it in? 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. Truth, to know that you are a good parent and are making the best decisions for your children, whom you love.  Going through your day with as much grace and humility as you can – and having peace in God’s great and all-consuming love for you, His child.  16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. The shield of faith – ah, faith – a gift that I do not possess.  To know and believe something infinitely without question…as in God’s plan for your life and all of the great and powerful things He has in store for you.  The weapon against all of those lies of unworthiness. 18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. 19 Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, 20 for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should. And finally, prayer – Prayers to protect our hearts, our minds, our spirits from all of those flaming arrows. Knowing where your heart lies, the Word – all essential to survival. It would make sense that armed with all of these things a supernatural confidence would be an easy thing to come by. But it’s not – and that’s why EVERY day you have to arm yourself yet again.  The actual definition of armor is “any covering worn as a defense against weapons”.  Armor protects the soft and vulnerable parts of ourselves: The heart.  The brain.  The skin.  The eyes.  All needing protection from the stresses of the world and susceptible to the smallest poison.  It is a daily battle, friends – one that I’m no closer to figuring out today than I was yesterday.  What do you need to arm yourself against??

On Tuesday, little E caught the nasty virus Herpangina.  Sounds gross, doesn’t it?  Google it.  Turns out it’s running rampant in her school right now and yeah, there’s nothing you can do except wait it out.  Ella’s has manifested itself as a rash on her arms and legs, general crabbiness and a fever.  Thankfully, I have an amazing Mother who was still willing to take her for the weekend while I attended a women’s conference at our church. Charlie, exercising her 4 year old will yet again, had three good days of swim lessons and then completely regressed and refused to get in the pool.  This wouldn’t seem like such a big deal except that this is our second year of swim lessons and last year we spent close to $400 and all she did was stand on the edge of the pool and scream.  Very disheartening when you have a summer of Texas heat ahead of you and neither of your children likes getting in the water.  Period. To top it all off, this morning, when I went upstairs to check on Charlie, I found her curled up in the fetal position with a temperature of 101.  All of that effort to separate them and they both caught something.  Just the beginning of sibling germ-sharing, I’m sure.  All of this makes for a pretty crappy week in my world. And yet, I was reminded this weekend how small I’ve let myself become.  It’s easy to feel like you’re living in a bubble in the suburbs.  It can seem like an impenetrable fortress at times.  There’s free parking.  Drive-through Starbucks on every corner.  Exemplary schools.  Mother’s Day Out programs where your children are being taught about Jesus and attend chapel every Friday.  Attached garages (this was a big coup after living in the city).  4,000 square feet of house for what an 800 square foot condo costs in Chicago.  Convenience. So when my kids are sick and swim lessons are a disaster it can feel like the world is falling down around me.  In the greater picture of life, however, there is so much more, isn’t there? If you are a Believer in Christ, as I am – the Alpha and the Omega, Lord of Lords, King of Kings – you know that at the end of this life there is Hope because you will spend eternity at the feet of your Father.  I know where my forever is but somehow I’ve forgotten where my present is.  Who is this life about?  Is it really about me and my day-to-day struggles, or is it about that 6 year old girl in India spending her days as a child prostitute?  Is it about whether or not my kid gets into the preschool of my choice, or is it about those foster children who age out of foster care at 18 and have nowhere to go?  Is it about replacing the carpet in our downstairs with hardwoods or is it about that family in my town who can’t pay their bills and have nothing to eat? I’m pretty sure that God wanted more for us (and from us) while we are on this Earth.  I’m pretty sure that we aren’t called to prosper ourselves, but defend the fatherless.  And I’m most definitely sure that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  So how I ended up in the place where I feel like I have nothing to offer is confusing to me.  If it’s true that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, then why can’t I believe that?  Why do I choose to live in this space of negativity and self-doubt and LIMITS, when God’s power is LIMITLESS.  After a weekend of the powerful music of Natalie Grant and the immense wisdom of Charlotte Gambill, I am stopped in my tracks.  I am left wanting and wondering… Wanting to do so much more with my life and wondering if I can do it. Can I make a difference in people’s lives?  Can I use the gifts that God has given me and change hearts?  Can I Dare To Be all that He has created me to be?  This was one story that really hit me hard this weekend: 2 Kings 4:1-7

The Widow’s Olive Oil

4 The wife of a man from the company of the prophets cried out to Elisha, “Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that he revered the Lord. But now his creditor is coming to take my two boys as his slaves.” 2 Elisha replied to her, “How can I help you? Tell me, what do you have in your house?” “Your servant has nothing there at all,” she said, “except a small jar of olive oil.” 3 Elisha said, “Go around and ask all your neighbors for empty jars. Don’t ask for just a few. 4 Then go inside and shut the door behind you and your sons. Pour oil into all the jars, and as each is filled, put it to one side.” 5 She left him and shut the door behind her and her sons. They brought the jars to her and she kept pouring. 6 When all the jars were full, she said to her son, “Bring me another one.” But he replied, “There is not a jar left.” Then the oil stopped flowing. 7 She went and told the man of God, and he said, “Go, sell the oil and pay your debts. You and your sons can live on what is left.” I am an empty jar, constantly wanting to be filled, making life all about me: Why isn’t that happening for me? Why don’t I have what she has? Why hasn’t my dream come true? Why haven’t I been given those chances? When really, maybe it is my job to fill the jars of those I meet, to write about life and death and eternity and Christ and not worry so much about what I haven’t received but focus more on giving and filling and encouraging and letting God do His great work and TRUST that He sees the bigger picture.  And maybe, just maybe, in the end I will be blessed far more than I could ever imagine.  And then my life won’t feel so small anymore.  No, it will feel as big as the sky, as deep as the ocean, and as wide as Heaven’s Gate. What will you Dare to Be today??

Oh, Facebook. You really like to make things tough sometimes, don’t you??  I love Facebook for so many reasons – one being the way it keeps me connected to all the different people in my life – but it can also be the fastest route to a downward spiral for me.  I’m pretty sure I’m not alone on this one.  It’s a wonderful thing to hear about the professional successes of my talented friends…and I do want to give credit where credit is due.  If you’re thriving in the theatre world after all these years you really do deserve all the accolades and applause your success is giving you.  I really do mean that.  It’s a tough, tough business, and definitely not for the faint of heart.  But for the other 98% of us, I wonder if my former beloved professors and acting coaches would drop the same praise on my wall for my job as a Mom.  You know, the one I’ve been working at for 4.5 years?  I wonder if it would look something like this: “Your children are beautiful!  Congrats on keeping them from killing each other, the cat, and yourself!” “So proud of you!  You are the master at answering 20 questions in the span of 5 minutes!” “Way to go!  You really make tea parties and playing “movie theatre” look so easy!” Maybe it’s watching too much “Smash” or the fact that my girls pull my monologue collections and Shakespeare Folio books off the shelves to “play library” – but I’ve never felt further away from my old “career”.  It really does feel like a past life and when people ask me if “I’d go back to acting after my kids are in school”…I just don’t know.  What was once a bright star has faded a bit with the diapers, chicken nuggets and Minnie Mouse jammies.  I’d like to think that that fearless performer is still in me somewhere – being kept alive by my love for language and reading and classical theatre – and that I can grab that star when my time during the day becomes my own again, a few years down the road.  But I really don’t know.  I don’t know if I can face the rejection of being told “no” again.  And it pains me in my deepest being to think that maybe, I just didn’t have the stomach for it and that 2% of my theatre buds did – and still do.  And so, good for them.  Honestly.  I guess I just wish that there would be something said for those of us who are working our asses off at a different career.  I guess sometimes I’d like a little praise heaped on me for making it through each day as the co-leader of my home, Mom extraordinaire, woman with 200 hats at any given time. I’ve decided to walk away from my work-from-home writing gig – it was an awesome experience but as it turns out – well, for me it was just too hard to balance deadlines with a very active 4 year old and a loving handful of a 2 year old.  And it also made me realize what I want to be writing about the most… My life, my family, my heart. Note to self: Figure out how to do that.

What is it about a trip to the dressing room – be it to try on a swimsuit, a bra, a pair of jeans – that ignites such fear and trepidation in the heart of a woman?  Must it always be an experience we dread? I went downtown today to shop.  I needed two things: a dress for a party we’re going to and some new Spanx to wear under said dress.  I’ve been doing my Paleo diet now since the end of February and quite honestly, I’ve never felt better.  I’m sleeping so soundly I’m not hearing any children waking up in the middle of the night (which maybe is a good thing?), I haven’t had any dizzy spells since I’ve cut gluten and grains out of my diet (which I was having quite a bit before), I feel less bloated and more clear-headed – and yes, OF course – there’s the whole inches lost thing.  So you would think that I would be in a good self-esteem place right now, right?  Some new clothes, compliments from friends and my loving husband…I’ve even bought some – gasp – shorts.  Shorts, which I would never have felt comfortable in before.  What, exactly, is the problem? I read this very interesting article on Forbes.com today.  Working moms vs. Stay-at-home-moms…the perceptions, the assumptions we gather from each other just by the clothes that we wear to our jobs.  Working moms?  Dressed up in a suit or otherwise sharply pressed outfit.  Stay-at-home-mom: yoga pants…more specifically Lululemon yoga pants, of the $98 variety.  Now, I’m not knocking my dear friend Lulu.  In fact, if you know me you know I might have a teensy problem when it comes to their delicious clothes.  However, it got me thinking.  As I go about my day and see the various women in my life, am I to assume that each and every one of them is thrilled and unbelievably happy with their bodies?  What are my perceptions, and what is reality?  Do they see flaws?  Are they thinking I wish I had bigger boobs.  I bet she never has to worry about filling out a fantastic little black dress. I wish I had a flatter stomach.  I bet she doesn’t need to wear Spanx. I wish I had arms like her.  I bet she spends hours in the gym to look like that. I wish I didn’t have cellulite.  I bet she doesn’t have cellulite. I think if we are honest with ourselves, we’ve all had thoughts just like these.  And I’ll also bet that the girls you’re wondering about are thinking the exact same things about other girls, or – gasp – you?  It’s a vicious cycle that will probably go on and on.  And maybe, just maybe – they’re not thinking of you at all.  They’re so wrapped up in the noise of their own stuff they haven’t ever noticed that maybe your thighs do touch and maybe your boobs are a little saggy after breastfeeding two babies.  Maybe you do have a constellation of stretch marks across your stomach.  But, do they really see?  And do they really care?  Maybe they’re worried about what you see when you look at them.  I’d venture to say it’s probably the latter.  So maybe we should give each other, and ourselves a break.  Maybe if we’d all stop thinking about our flaws at the exact same time we’d all be having a lot more fun.  So, back to the dress I tried on.  It was darling.  Right up my alley.  Made my legs look fantastic.  But I couldn’t get past how un-Madonna my arms looked in it.  So I went back home with my new Spanx and no dress to wear over them, hanging my head in defeat and this close to climbing up out of my shame spiral via a big fat bag of pretzel M & M’s. Don’t worry.  I didn’t cave.  But I’m still feeling kinda down in the dumps about the whole thing.  And that stinks. I’d like to get to a place in my life where a visit to the dressing room doesn’t ruin my whole day.  Here’s hoping.  Let’s all end the day with a nice, gentle, loving thought about ourselves, shall we? I will do the same.  Or, try to, at least.   

It’s not easy putting it all out there, and Lord knows it’s often better to stuff it all down and pretend like everything is fine.  But sometimes, maybe giving voice to an issue in your heart is the greatest medicine. If you know anything about me, you know that I had a tumultuous childhood.  A lot of moving, a lot of instability – and I know that my parents did the best they could – but I went to three different high schools – the last being when I was 17.  A junior.  When everyone had established their friendships and grown up together.  I was coming in at the end.  Thankfully college came soon after, and thank God for it because it was just transient enough that I had the opportunity to meet lots of different kinds of people.  I was no longer the outsider.  And really, that’s what college was about for me – despite spending 90% of my time in the theatre building, I was blessed to have friendships of every kind, because everyone was beginning again.  I still call some of those people my oldest and dearest friends.  And, if you really are blessed with those old friendships, you can pick right back up from where you left off.  As my dear friend and kindred spirit Michelle reminds me, we shouldn’t be “hustling” our relationships all the time.  At some point, we have to stop working so hard and just be ourselves and trust that those people we call friends really and truly do want to spend time with us. And I think she hit the nail on the head.  I wonder, if because I had such instability in my childhood and teenage years that I just don’t feel like I deserve to have rich friendships with women.  Maybe, sub-consciously, my 14 year old self is telling me not to get too close.  Maybe it’s an issue of self-protection?  I have an amazing husband who tells me every day what a gift I am to him.  I love that I live with my greatest fan, and whenever I need that pep talk he is more than ready to give it to me.  But I find when it comes to the topic of women friendships – it’s just so much more complicated, isn’t it? I’m in the middle of reading Beth Moore’s “So Long, Insecurity” (HIGHLY recommend, by the way) and I highlighted one sentence in particular: “[Rejection is] insecurity with a serious fever.” Oooh.  Ever been there?  Have you ever fretted over something you’ve said, or wrote, so much so that it kept you up at night?  Have you ever had too many drinks and wanted to call an old friend just to tell them you miss them more than they could possibly know, and then not remember what you said the next day, terrified you made a total fool out of yourself?  Have you ever “hustled” a relationship?  Really and truly worked hard at getting someone to like you? Oh, friends.  I have done all of these things, many times. And Facebook?  You know where I’m going with this – how many times have your feelings been hurt because you weren’t invited/weren’t asked/weren’t approached/weren’t included?  I think we can all relate to that one. I feel like sometimes I mourn the fact I don’t have that one “go-to” friend – like just one person needs to fill all of those needs – because instead I have many different friends who fill all kinds of different roles in my life – and maybe I just need to recognize how wonderful that is in its own right.  Because who loves it when I’m mired in defeat – convinced that no one really wants to spend time with me or feels I bring something fabulous to the party?  One guess. The devil rejoices in it.  He loves that I can’t find my way out of this muck.  He relishes in those feelings of rejection and feeds them – gives them life, gives them a name.  James 1:16-18 says, “Don’t be misled, my dear brothers and sisters.  Whatever is good and perfect comes down to us from God the Father, who created all the lights in the heavens.  He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.  He chose to give birth to us by giving us his true word.  And we, out of all creation, became His prized possession.” Oh, to truly and completely believe this and live it out in my life!  To have freedom – to know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made and that there is someone who thinks I bring many, many fabulous things to the party.  In fact, He thinks I’m so precious that He’s planning a party for me when it’s my time to leave this world.  A royal soiree, given by the sovereign King.  Thrown for me, His greatest and most beloved creation. Why, when I have such unbelievable power above me, am I still prey to such darkness?  I must know, deep inside, that this kind of decay is not of my Heavenly Father?  And so I will try to put this burden down each and every day.  When I’m feeling lonely, or sad, or rejected – or simply unloved.  Because the TRUTH of my life is that all of those things are LIES.  And so I challenge all of you who struggle with similar feelings – you are not alone.  I’m right there with you.  And the best thing that we can do is to recognize the lies and live in the truth of our great God’s loving embrace.  Because He is Good.  He is Loving.  He will always have a place for you at His table. He is your greatest fan, and friend – if you’ll let Him be.

So last week my babies were gone for Spring Break.  We dropped them at my Mom’s house and started off my birthday week with a staycation in Dallas with my hubby and an amazing meal at The Capital Grille (a Chicago fave) with sweet friends.  I was treated to a pedicure (thanks Meesh!), bought myself some new shoes and a facial, and then spent the next week pretty much doing whatever I wanted to do.  Stay up till 2 am and watch the entire “Sex and the City” DVD set?  Check.  Sleep till 11 am?  Check.  Go shop in all those stores that are impossible to take a stroller or toddler in?  Check.  Flip through all the magazines I never get to read?  Check.  Truthfully, yes, it was bliss having all that sweet freedom.  But about halfway through the week I started to really miss them.  And as I drove back to my Mom’s house I found myself grinning from ear to ear just thinking about reuniting with them.  Charlie was waiting for me – and promptly wrapped herself around me – all spindly legs and soft, olive-y skin.  “Mommmmmmmeeeeeyyyyyy, Mommmmmmmeeeeeyyyyyy” she repeated over and over as she buried her little face in my neck.  Ah, if felt good to be needed again. About a half hour later my Dad got Ella up from her nap and she came running in on the pads of her feet, screaming “Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!” and flashing that gap-toothed smile I love so much.  I snatched her up (forgetting that at 2 she is still less than 25 pounds) and held her close, taking in that still baby smell and kissing her tiny features.  Her first words to me were “I’m Minnie Mouse!”, which she said over and over again in her post-nap gravelly voice.  Sweet girl.  We had a pretty uneventful drive back and of course they were both thrilled to be home, back in their rooms and beds and ready to play with all of their favorite toys.  And somehow, they both looked so much bigger to me.  You know how that happens?  It almost takes your breath away – all this time I wished and prayed for Ella to talk and now she’s saying full sentences and I can actually converse with her.  So strange, and beautiful, and bittersweet at the same time.  So I’ll always be the one who recognizes the not-so-pretty sides of being a Mom.  I can commiserate with the best of ‘em.  But I can also appreciate when my heart is full and my family is healthy and home and asleep in these beds and oh, how good all of that feels.

I’m going to be 34 on Sunday.  Ask me where the last 12 years went…cause I really don’t know.  It’s amazing how the minutiae of the day-to-day can make time feel like it’s standing still, when in all actuality, didn’t it just seem like it was last summer?  My girls were a year younger, even more dependent on me…Ella was just taking her first steps at 18 months.  Charlie was 3 and so afraid of the water she wouldn’t dip one toe in the neighborhood pool.  And now, I have a walking, talking 2 year old (“Yuka, Mom, an aipane!!” – translation: “Look, Mom, an airplane!!”) and a smart and fearless 4 year old.  What happened? The other day Charlie and I had this conversation about getting older: C: Mommy, how many years are you? Me: I’ll be 34 on my birthday. C: So then, next year you’ll be 35 on your birthday? Me: Yep. C: And then, 36, 37, 38, and then 45? Me: Silence.  “Uh, not so fast there, sister!” It got me thinking.  I wonder if gals in their 20’s feel like they’ll be in their 20’s forever.  I sure did.  And although I learned a lot of valuable lessons and made life-long friendships during that decade, you couldn’t pay me a lifetime of Louis Vuittons to go back.  And yet, time sort of feels like it’s going by a little too fast for my taste. I’m going on Day 15 of my Paleo Challenge and have only gone off track a couple of times – and not even that much.  It’s going well – overall I feel great, I’m sleeping better, and am at long last back to my pre-holiday weight.  Everything feels a little tighter, less jiggly.  That’s never a bad thing. I think taking better care of myself in all ways will lead to a longer life – emotionally I am still and will always be a work-in-progress.  I think my search for acceptance has less to do with what “happened in high school” and more to do with my own hang-ups – you know, what I see when I look in the mirror vs. what other people see.  And maybe, just maybe, what other people see is really what’s true.  I think the Devil will constantly prey on those insecurities, if I let him.  If I were better at keeping myself spiritually fed I might be able to fight it in a more constructive and healthy way.  I know the Lord knows where my heart is, but I don’t do a very good job of maintaining my relationship with Him.  This is definitely an area I can improve on in my 34th year.  Filling my heart and my life with things of good and not of evil, surrounding myself with friends who lift me up and don’t tear me down…giving myself a lot of grace and giving it all up each and everyday.    And so, as I look at myself in the mirror as I turn 34, I will try not to notice the teeny lines that have all of a sudden popped up around my mouth and the fact that my skin doesn’t bounce back like it did when I was 22.  And it will be ok – because that’s just life – and what can you do but embrace each year and celebrate the things you’ve learned and the people you’ve loved?  That might be a better use of my time than sitting on my sink, examining my pores for 45 minutes while I sing Lady Gaga songs and flip through catalogs – Whaaat?  (Cause you know, even when you are no longer single you still have Secret Single Behavior.  Carrie Bradshaw admitted it.  It’s time we all did, no?) So here’s to 34, and all of its ups and downs.  May it bring me closer to the woman I truly want to be.