Bull's-eye

Throughout my life, I’ve had many friends. I fit into several different groups. The “good girls”, whom I joined for church functions and bible study groups. The “nerds”, who may not always have been the trendiest kids in school, but whom are now living successful lives thanks to their brains and work ethic. I went on a date (or two) with an adorable football player. For a time, I was even with the “hippie kids”, with whom I sported countless Beatles shirts and long bead necklaces. As I struggled to discover my own identity, I managed to find a way to identify with almost everybody.

While this sounds like a happy little plan for acquiring many friends, I often felt left out. In the pre-teen and teen years, the clique is key. I never took the steps to fully ingrain myself into one singular group. I was in the circle here and there, but never quite on the bull’s-eye. More like the outer wedge of the number four on the dartboard. I was there, but not crucial to the game. While the core of each group could call themselves best friends, I just existed.

Did my friends feel this way about me? I have no idea. I remember countless days where I wished I could be closer to the center. Somewhere… anywhere. But I also liked the people in clique #2 and that group over there. I felt I would have to choose one over the other, and that was impossible.

In the age of Facebook, most of these friends have returned. I enjoy chatting with all of them. I occasionally meet up with one or two if we’re in the same town at the same time. It is a lot of fun, and I am blessed to have some fantastic acquaintances and old friends in my life.

Do I need to be in the center these days?

I already am.

I am in the center of my little household of three. I am the wife and the mother. I am the CEO of this house. I am my husband’s best friend. And, while she’s young at least, I am the sun in Amelia’s universe.

It’s a good place to be.

Writer's Workshop:
Describe a time when you felt left out

Wordless Wednesday: Expression

"The expression a woman wears on her face is far more important

than the clothes she wears on her back."

                                                                                     --Dale Carnegie

Magical

This January 25th marks my eight-year wedding anniversary with my phenomenal husband. He is a trustworthy friend with a contagious love of silliness and fun. He is also brilliant and responsible, keeping us safe and secure. He is everything I could ask for, and much more. I would not trade this man for the world.

Marriage is not simple. It's not easy to always consider someone else in your plans, thoughts, and dreams. Sometimes it's easier to be grumpy than to put on a smile for the sake of a happy household. With a child in the mix, mariage must absorb fatigue, stress, and occasional monotony. We have plenty of family time. Lots of "mommy and daddy" events. But intentional effort is required to find that elusive but oh-so-important "you and me" time. I can't say we're perfect with this, but we try our best. We never forget that we are a team. We are best friends. And we could never ask for a more blessed life together.

Happy anniversary to YOU, Steve! Thanks for always supporting us. And for loving me no matter what.

Before child...

Before I had a preschooler, I never realized:

• All the sugar packets at restaurants have been played with (possibly licked) by a small child.
• Preschoolers will completely ignore their friends during a playdate, then later tell you "I had such a great day with (friend)!".
• Choo-choo trains are exciting and fascinating by day, completely terrifying in dreams.
• Food can be made out of anything: woodchip pizzas, play-doh cupcakes, sand pies, mud puddle soup... (warning: do not let them get their hands on dog poo).
• Stuffed animals have feelings. They cry, hit each other, miss their mommies, and often need timeout.
• Stuffed animals also need frequent diaper changes (and many, many baby wipes).
• It is nearly impossible to outsmart an almost-three year old. Don't try to be sneaky, they are all on to us.
• Fairies get sucked down the bathtub drain and end up swimming in the ocean. That's why you see so many at the beach.
• Ceiling fans are terrifying.
• Preschoolers could care less who is on the other end of the phone. But if Mommy is talking on it, they transform into noisy, clingy octopus-like creatures.
• Mommy's day off only works if Mommy is in another state. Or another country.

I have a stalker. Several, actually.

They sneak up on me, seemingly during the night. I am startled to find them so close when I wake. I have gone through great lengths to make them stay away. I've told them to leave. I've tried to hide from them. I have even forcibly removed them from my life.

But still they return. I am being stalked - by gray hairs!

I have plucked, and colored, and hidden these little pests, but they are resilient. In my brown hair, they manage to shine like diamonds and poke out like chicken wire. Each gray hair has a mind of its own.

Despite my best efforts to fight these nuisances, I always manage to miss a few. I have been astounded by a 5-inch long gray hair on more than one occasion.

My father has had gray hair for as long as I can remember. I definitely have his genes; my appearance mirrors his side of the family. And, (yikes!) I am probably not too far from the age when the total gray descended upon him. For a man, gray is no big deal. It looks distinguished. It's completely acceptable. For me, however? I'm not so sure.

My name, Julie, means "youthful one". For the most part, I live up to that in personality. However, I suspect no one informed my hair. It is anything but youthful these days.

What are you doing this weekend? I'm browsing the hair color aisle... again.

F2F Friday: Kludgy Mom

Many thanks to Gigi for stepping in for today's Friends 2 Follow Friday! And thanks to Gigi for introducing me to a fantastic new word:

A kludgy mom (clue-gee mom) is a mom who uses clumsy or inelegant, yet effective, solutions to problems, typically using items that are cobbled together. In other words, a mom who makes things up as they go.

Blog Name? KludgyMom

Find Kludgy Mom on TWITTER and FACEBOOK

Five adjectives that describe you?
Snarky, Honest, Silly, Hungry and sometimes Sappy!
Something that recently made you laugh?
My son, Boy Wonder, told me that I had a "badonkadonk."

A favorite photo?

This is a picture of my kids at Moonlight Beach in Encinitas from Thanksgiving 2010. I just think it's gorgeous and reminds me of California...which is home, and I miss it.


If you could spend a weekend by yourself anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?
If I could spend a weekend anywhere by myself, I'd probably jet off to Florence, Italy. it's a place I've always wanted to visit, and I'd get to just slow down a little bit, eat delicious food and surround myself with historical beauty.

Never friends...

10 reasons I could never be friends with a massage therapist:

 

1)  I would repeatedly ask for a back massage

2)  I would repeatedly ask for a neck massage

3)  I would repeatedly ask for a leg massage

4)  I would repeatedly ask for a foot massage

5)  I would repeatedly ask for a face and head massage

6)  I may even ask for a butt massage

7)  I might become obsessed with my talented friend and turn into a stalker

8)  Husband would get jealous of all the massages and ask for some too

9)  If massage therapist friend was a male, husband would get even more jealous - but would not ask for a massage

10)  My poor friend would get fed up and break up with me

But oh my gosh…. Just the thought of free (and frequent!) massages makes me happy. I’m a mama who needs to relax. And I love to be pampered.

So, massage therapists, is anyone raising their hand to be MY friend?

Prompt #4:

10 Reasons Why I Could Never Be Friends With…(fill in the blank)