2018 Musings




I'm the kind of girl who, at 40 years of age, still calls herself a girl. I'm an organized person living in a cluttered house with child hoarders who keep tiny pieces of paper and use scotch tape liberally on empty toilet paper rolls, er I mean, swords.  I can't figure out why there are stickers on my couch because my twins are in 4th grade. I wish we had a house with a mudroom or a closet or a nook, just so my husband can stash all his running/biking/etc stuff there instead of on his kitchen chair. I just started wearing a plum colored lipstick and realize how much better I look even though according to the fashion magazines, my skin tone is warm and I should wear browns instead. I'm currently wondering how to respond to one of my child's teachers who reached out about the fact that he's acting up in class... and his response - "I want to have a social worker like _____ because he gets to take breaks and play with putty." My daughter took a Chicago Hauntings book to school today to share stories with her friends about the "sausage guy who ground up his wife".  And my 6th grader now has an iPhone and I think, I think!, wants a girlfriend. I should really work out and lose the 5-whatever pounds I put on pre-transplant thanks to steroids. I should really stop blaming the steroids from 3 years ago, and instead blame the fact that I get home from work exhausted because I'm anemic... thanks to my post-transplant medicines. And I should really eat the broccoli and Brussels sprouts my husband tells me to eat because I need iron. And.... I should probably work out. Right now, I'm defining my happiness by trying to find the perfect purse, and while I realize that's a #firstworldproblem, I also don't care if you think I'm being #petty. Pretty things make me happy and that's okay. My 9 year old daughter still wants to grow up and be a princess and I'm fine with that, because princesses can be strong women too. (Hello Duchess of Cambridge!) I'm unfulfilled at work due to role changes and now am doing a job I never signed up for. I found all my old writing journals and mourned the loss of who I once was but am glad at the same time that I no longer feel such sadness inside. I am so thankful for a new year.  Now that January is over, that is.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Two Years

The Cindy Tote - A Review

A Season of Change