The older I get, the more aware and probably honest I am, about what I am and what I am not.
I know a few things.
I'm a high maintenance girl who tries to pretend that she's not. I like things a certain way and often the only reason that they're not is because I can't afford it or I don't have enough energy in this season of my life to make it so.
I hate researching anything. I am impulsive and intuitive. Nine times out of ten, I make the right decision, but sometimes, I'm painfully aware that I could have had better, had I just taken my time and explored the options.
I am deeply infatuated with smart, non-pretentious, capable people. There is nothing I love more than getting drunk and commiserating with folks who challenge my thinking and freely share their ideas...it's orgasmic, really.
I love being a girl. I love long hair. Skirts. Tanned legs. Talks over coffee/champagne with my girlfriends. And making my husband's head turn.
I was called to be a mother. For all of the shit that comes with parenting and there is more literal and metaphorical feces than I ever thought possible...I would lay down my life and my sanity day in and day out for my three munchkins.
Unkind, self righteous people send me over the edge. There is nothing more deflating than being privy to the judgmental rantings of a lunatic on his soap box. It makes me want to commit acts of violence.
All people who cannot merge correctly onto the interstate should immediately implode.
I fear that I will always question my confidence and my ability to perform...which is probably why my writings will remain in the form of a blog and I will ultimately, be that quiet mom encouraging my three to conquer the world.
If I love you or have loved you...I will love you forever. It's just how I was made.
It's refreshing to assess who you are and to own who you are not...knowing that you're perfect, idiosyncrasies and all.