My 38 Life Lessons

Today I turned 38. The big 4-0 is staring me directly in the face but it’s not something I’m actually afraid of. After spending a lot of my 30’s being elbow deep in dirty diapers and sleep deprived with newborns, my 40’s will be spent with reclaiming most of myself back while enjoying my children being a bit more independent.

As I approach that huge milestone, I’m reflecting on so many things I’ve learned so far. Some are smaller than others, but they’re all significant to the growth of my soul.

So without further ado, in no particular order, my 38 life lessons:

1. It’s not the quantity, but the quality of friendships as an adult. I don’t want a bunch of friends at this age. I only want to be surrounded by a small, meaningful circle of like-minded women.

2. Self-care is so important. Motherhood can be very draining. Taking breaks and knowing when you need time to yourself is nothing to feel guilty about.

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My Heart Hurts


“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” MLK Jr.

For a writer who usually finds the right words easily, I have struggled today. My heart hurts for two families who have the deaths of their loved ones being played out for all to see, as they try to make sense of the events and deal with their grief. My heart hurts for the young girl, in the back seat, who had to witness her father dying. My heart hurts for Alton Sterling’s five children. My heart hurts for the police officers who do the right thing every day, want to protect and serve, and feel affected by the ones who don’t. My heart hurts for the five, innocent souls in Dallas. My heart hurts for everyone who now feels afraid to live because of the color of their skin. My heart hurts for those who spew hatred on social media, saying the one man deserved it because of his criminal record. My heart hurts for the girl at the store today, in front of me, who said to her friend, “White people don’t get the sadness.” You’re wrong. I, too, feel the same injustice you are, and stand next to you, not as a white woman, but a human being who wants all human beings to be treated the same.

My heart hurts…

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Finding Your MBFF..To Survive Motherhood

We moved in 2013, and I was worried. Not about finding the closest Target, but about finding my village.

Back in my hometown, I still have two close-as-sister friends, but that’s four hours away; Too far to get together for a quick drink after the kids have driven me to the edge of a cliff.

This stressed me out. Everyone needs a MBFF, a village. A person(s) you can count on, as a support system, at all times, without much warning. A person who you can vent to about your husband, kids, in-laws, other moms, etc. A person who will rush over to help when you’re sick and the house is falling down around you.

Finding Your Mom Village

You know you found your MBFF when:

You don’t have to worry about wearing the same thing two days in a row in front of her, and bras are optional.

She also won’t judge when your hair looks like you just cooked up some meat, then poured the grease all over your head.

You don’t care about cleaning up, nor do you check how clean the toilet is, in the powder room, before she comes to visit.

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Vacationing to the Beach With Kids=Exhausting

Beach, ocean, vacation

We got back last Sunday from Florida. A week-long vacation in beautiful Florida. A week-long vacation in paradise, that was full of constant happiness, laughter, and relaxation for me. Wrong!

It took 11 hours to get there. 11 hours with a 2.5 year old and infant. (I’ll pause here for you to think about that)…………………..

On the way down, we thought we were so smart to leave at night and drive the whole way while they slept. HAHAHA! No. They didn’t. On and off the entire way. The entire 11 hours. So, on the way back, we figured we’d just leave earlier in the day, make some stops, take a big break for dinner and time for stretching, and continue on our way. Well, we forgot about the problems that a potty trained toddler would bring to the car. We forgot about how the sun shining in the car would make napping difficult. forgot the Valium for myself, or some strong liquor!

Before kids, I used to love the beach. The sand. The ocean. Setting up my beach chair, towel, and umbrella, ready to sunbathe all day.

Now, with kids, I loathe the sand. Even if you think you brushed it all off of their tiny bodies, it’s still there. You feel it on your sheets in bed. You taste it in your food. Your kid cries when her sandwich falls and is covered by the tiny, granular particles. She later cries that there’s sand in between her toes, in between her butt cheeks, in her ears, etc.

Sand. Hate. It.

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