Sometimes you have to let go

I am going to step back for a bit and decide if I still want to do this.

Life is busy, and I feel like I'm spending too much of it in front of a screen.

There is a very good chance I will end up bored out of my mind. In which case, I will be back.

For now, I am taking a hiatus. Telling myself it's only 10 days. Hoping, actually, that it's only 10 days.

But time will tell.

I need to see what my BalancingMama life is all about without a blog.





* * * * * * * *
I will still be chatting on Twitter and visiting my favorite blogs.... I still want to connect.
@BalancingMama
* * * * * * * *

Things for which I have no patience...

Being Amelia's Mommy is amazing. I love that kid with all my heart. She makes me laugh and amazes me with how quick she learns new tricks. I would never give up this job for anything in the entire world... I love being Mommy... blah, blah, blah... yes, we know.

BUT...

There are a few things that drive me completely insane. Instances where I would prefer to run out of the house screaming even though I'd be completely embarrassed if the neighbors saw what I was wearing.

I have absolutely no patience for...

Car-load dawdling. If I let her, this child would take 15 minutes to get herself seated in the car. Even - no, especially - if it is blazing hot outside, pouring down rain, or if another driver is waiting with their turn signal on, hoping to take our parking space. She climbs across the car to investigate a crumb on the floor, looks for a book underneath the driver's seat, takes her shoes off, wants a drink of water when her cup is in the front seat cupholder, "accidentally" slips and falls on the floor when trying to get in her car seat.... I am over it.

Bedtime stalling. Can anyone tell me why children do not crave bedtime like their mommies do? Do you know what I would give for someone to force me to lay down for a nap? Or to rub my back for a couple minutes, instructing me to sleep?!? We have a difficult time deciphering if she is truly scared or just playing her masterful game of stalling, but our bedtime routine is short on cute, sweet, and cuddly these days.  I am beyond over it.

Bingo boredom. We own two preschool-friendly games that are actually enjoyable. But Little Einstein's bingo? Drives me bonkers. I feel like a drill sergeant barking orders instead of a friendly playmate. For some reason, she begs to play this game, but cannot hold her attention on it for more than 6 seconds at a time. Playing this game sounds like this:
"Okay, Amelia, spin. Amelia? Your turn to spin."  
"Blue Leo. Amelia? Blue Leo. Do you have any Blue Leos? Put the pieces on the Blue Leo. Amelia... put the pieces on. On Blue Leo. Yes, there."
(Mommy spins a Green Annie.)
"Amelia, I got Green Annie. Amelia? Amelia! Green Annie. Do you have any Green Annies? Amelia? Amelia? Green Annie. Put the pieces on Green Annie. No, that's Purple June. It's Green Annie...."
Seriously! Yet, she loves this game. She won't let me put it away before we've filled our bingo cards. I now know where the old bingo ladies at the civic center get their gray hair... they must have practiced the game with my child. I am really, really, over it.


Don't make let feel all alone here.

Tell me, when are you completely drained of patience?

If I could tell new moms ONE thing...

If you are looking for expert advice on parenting, you have come to the right place should probably venture elsewhere.

But if you want some honest tips from a semi-clueless first-time mama who is managing to raise a pretty darn awesome kid? Okay, I can help you there.

I have now lived three years, five months, and five days with my lovely, precocious little darling.

She is worth the exhaustion.

She is worth the "mommy brain" from which I still often suffer.

She makes me laugh every single day.

So, what advice would I give to a new mom?

Do not lose yourself. Instead, take care of yourself.

Do not let society lead you to believe that a good parent must be a martyr. Don't let unsolicited advice make you doubt yourself. Do not put so much into raising your child the "right way" that you forget to raise yourself up at times. A good mom? Is a happy mom.

So, new moms? Repeat after me.

I will take time to be myself.

I will take time to be alone.

I will do something, just for me, on a regular basis.

I will not apologize for making myself happy.

When I am happy, my child will know it, feel it, and live it.

- - -

Join in the fun with Mama Kat!

My 3-yr-old may be smarter than me

It was the kind of morning I always dread. Too tired from a busy and never-long-enough weekend, hearing the sounds of sniffles coming from my daughter's cozy pink bedroom. When we got her up this morning to get ready for school, she insisted she was  fine. She wanted to go to school and play with her fellow preschool friends.

So after our usual morning routine of strawberry milk, a breakfast snack, and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, we headed off to school. I kissed her head and gave her a hug before driving myself across town to work.

Then, around 12:15, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID and groaned.
Her school.

"Amelia is in my office, and can't stop crying. She says she doesn't feel good and needs you."

I wasn't thrilled to hear this news, but wasn't extremely surprised. So off I went again, back across town, to pick her up.

I arrived at her classroom and peeked in the door. She took one look at my face and lit up like sunshine.

"Hi, Mommy!" she exclaimed, waving. Then she bounded her happy little self over to me.

I questioned her about her crying incident. I asked her if she was sick.

"No, Mommy. I am fine now!" Grinning. Grasping my hand. "Let's go home."

Um... what?!?

I think a three-year-old may have just duped her mama, two teachers, and the assistant director of her school.


You live you learn... I guess.
(Mama feels like a fool!)


The jeans in the bottom drawer

Shortly after Amelia was born, my jeans were looking good. Through sheer exhaustion and first-time-mommy stress, I was skinnier than I had been in years.

Baby weight? Did not exist in my world.

Or so I thought.

It was simply delayed.

Today, my jeans are angry with me. They feel neglected and unloved, living in the bottom drawer, uncomfortably tight around my “mama middle”. My daughter and I graduated 'Infant/Toddler 101' last year and while she is more active than ever, Mama somehow moved into a sedentary phase (with a side of snacking).

My confidence faltered when I succumbed to a new jeans purchase last fall. I dragged my feet from the junior’s section into the grown-up world of pleats and elastic waistbands. No worries – I did not go that far. I did, however, succeed in finding two pairs of new jeans that fit well, felt comfortable, and minimized my muffin top.

Designer? Well, no.

But I do not believe I have fallen into the depths of “mom jeans”… yet. And if I have? Please, for the sake of human decency, please pull me aside one day and tell me. I promise not to cry. In front of you.

It is almost fall here, and I will soon dig out those new jeans for their seasonal debut. My old jeans? Are still waiting patiently for me in the drawer, buried underneath more recent (and larger) purchases.

I owe it to myself to get back into those jeans one day. My weight plummeted after the birth of my daughter; I know it is possible.

Don’t lose faith in me, skinny jeans. I will see you again one day. Just give me a little more time.

- - -

The assignment this week was to write a piece – fiction or creative non-fiction – in which jeans play a prominent role.

Just the way you are

I first participated in AllThingsFadra's Stream of Consciousness Sunday a few months ago upon the death of my 99-year-old grandmother. The post was titled This is not goodbye... and it did my heart some good.

This week, I'm joining in once again. Here are the "rules":

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only. 


• Do not edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw. 


• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere.


• Link up to #SOCSunday on All Things Fadra.

- - -

To my sweet princess,

I cannot believe how beautiful you are. We spend a lot of time together, and I take every opportunity I can to just look at you. I take in your sea blue eyes, your long full eyelashes, your button nose, and that sweet pink mouth. I observe your light curls, your sassy three-year-old fashion sense, and your painted little toenails. You take my breath away. I am so lucky you are mine.

But if I can ingrain one thing in your mind, my dear, it is this: beauty will never be the most important thing. Sure I sometimes feel my heart skip a beat when you look at me with that gorgeous face... but I am even more proud when you show me the talents of your brain. You are independent, creative, and such a quick learner. Daddy and I both marvel at the things you remember. Sometimes you describe scenes that took place when you were still in diapers. Often we teach you a word once, just to hear you use it proficiently the very next day.

I know you like princesses... and you will always be our princess. Not just because of your beauty, but for so very much more. For your beauty, your kindness, your humor, your grace, your creativity, and your brains.

I am thankful for you every day.

You will go far in this life.

If you stay just the way you are.



- - -

Summer creativity

Since I am a part-time working mama, my child goes to preschool year-round. She is actively engaged and entertained on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9:00 to 4:00. The other days? She is all mine. Summer has no effect on our weekly schedule, yet I find myself wanting to spend more time with her. Wanting to create memorable summertime moments.

We splash in the pool, we attack the playground with fervor, we stroll through the woods on our nearby mountain. But when (often, in HOTlanta) the extreme heat and melting humidity are too much to bear? We put our thinking caps on and find some indoor fun.



Some favorite activites we've gotten into so far?

Dance party. We blast her favorite kiddy tunes and dance. To a mom who lives life in black & white, late & early, right & wrong? Dance party is awesome. We throw caution to the wind and act like lunatics. I cannot get enough of her hearty laugh. And boy, does she laugh when mom looks completely nuts.


Art projects. Nothing keeps my daughter entertained more than expressing creativity through art. She colors, paints, glues, and tapes most anything she can get her hands on. Art can be made from anything. Empty paper towel roll? Glue colored pieces of paper all over it for a fancy telescope. Popsicle sticks? Glue a photo across them then cut to separate for a custom photo puzzle. Hit the $1 sections at craft stores and Target for ribbons, wooden paintables, and glitter glue. We've decorated signs and masks and even a birdhouse or two.


Indoor swimming pool - for her toys. I simply fill a large tupperware container with some water, toss in a couple plastic toys and a small bowl or two to act as a raft. Amelia splishes and splashes with the water, making waves for her toys and teaching them how to swim. Sure, the kitchen gets a little wet, but it's only water! Want to get your floor washed? Pour a bit of dish soap into the "pool" - when you clean up the splashes, you can call it mopping too.


Summer definitely keeps me on my toes. Coming up with project after project after project is sometimes tough, but I think it's a lot of fun too.

 

What are you up to this summer? Leave a comment and tell me!

The clingy kid

Alright people, I am ready to make a confession.

I do not like to play.

I get painfully bored playing preschool games. I do not enjoy sitting on the floor. I can only change the 3" tall princesses' clothes so many times before I have a pounding headache. Play-Doh? Just makes me antsy about the mess.

I do not like to play.
Gasp! What a horrible mom.

I guess I should say, I do not like to play, but I do it anyway.

I am a busy work-from-home mom. I work for an advertising agency. I also blog, tweet, take care of the house, do laundry, run errands, and cook meals. I also take time out each day to play with Amelia.

Granted, it may not be for long. 30-45 minutes of undivided attention from me makes her day. I find a way to stop what I am doing and let her take the reins. During this time, she directs our play. Sometimes, if my schedule looks clear, we go out to a playground or indoor play center. I encourage her to venture out, to have confidence playing alone. I will also find moments to join her. To interact. To cheer her on as she climbs a tower or chase her as she runs and giggles. I admit, I do not love it. But the joy on her face breaks down my walls and forces a smile. Those moments are priceless.

Eight or nine times out of ten, do you know what happens?

We meet "the clingy kid". A kid, usually much older than my own, whom is so enamored by a mom in the mix of kids, he/she becomes my shadow. Many times, this kid will approach and ask,
     "Will you play with me?"
A question posed not to 3-year-old Amelia, but to 33-year-old me. 

Here is another confession...

I completely avoid this kid.
Gasp! How terrible!

I do not want the responsibility of entertaining someone else's child. I generally answer with, "I need to watch my daughter today." And the clingy kid? Usually follows me for a few minutes (or more) before finally turning away.

Maybe this is wrong of me... but I don't. like. playing.

I do what I can - as happily as possible - for my own child, but entertaining one I've never met? Just goes a step too far. However, the clingy kid tugs at my heartstrings. I wonder, why is this little guy/girl craving attention? Do they get undivided attention at home? Are they crying out for parental involvement? Trust me, I am not that cool. Why ask to play with me?

Maybe they are simply lacking social skills? 

Why does this happen so often?

Do you know the clingy kid?

The P-Word

Have you ever wondered why I refer to one-third of my mommy persona in quotation marks?

"Perfect" Mommy?

It is simple, really. I do not believe that perfect exists. Perfect is what you are "supposed" to be if you religiously follow all the baby books and doctor advice. Perfect is something that know-it-all mamas would like you to believe is attainable (These mamas are simply not sharing all the times they themselves faltered. Don't be fooled!).

If I do something "perfect" for a total of 1 hour out of my day, even if it's four separate 15-minute events, then I call it a success.

When I met (virtually, thanks to Twitter) the mama behind
Holly's House (Not a perfect mom's blog), I knew she would make a "perfect" guest poster. Thank you, Holly! Non-perfect moms are always welcome here.

- - - - -

A guest post by Holly

from Holly's House (Not a perfect mom's blog)

The Perfect Mother. Do you know her? Do you think you are her? Do you strive to be her?

Or are you like me? Have you pretty much given up on the notion of the Perfect Mother? Yup, that's right, I have given up my quest to be the Perfect Mother.

I tried to be perfect. I really did. I made my own baby food, but I didn't take the peas out the pods after I steamed them and the baby choked on the stringy puree. I bought the most expensive baby wipes that would ensure my little angel's bum smelled fresh as a daisy and he broke out in a rash from the fragrance. I tried to cut those little itty bitty fingernails with the special nail clippers the hospital sent me home with and I cut too low, causing my precious bundle of joy's finger to bleed.

I tried to be perfect.
I tried and I failed.
So now I am me.

I'm not a perfect mother. But that doesn't mean I'm not a good mother. Sure, I may accidentally have given Hope Fiber One cereal, causing her to have explosive diarrhea when she was desperate to be in big girl underwear. And then there was the time I lost her at Sea World. Um, and I also accidentally dropped Brooke in front of her physical therapist once. Oh, and I recently reduced my oldest son to tears when I was teasing him about a girl in his class he has a crush on...

But all of that doesn't make me a bad mother. Those points definitely don't highlight my stellar mothering, but we all make mistakes. I don't think that there really is that Perfect Mother anywhere. A mother that never makes mistakes, that always does the right thing.

Mothering is a process. We all learn as we go. I don't think we'll ever stop learning, especially since every child is different. Just when I think I have this whole mothering lark figured out, one of my kids changes the game on me. But I'm okay with that. I'm enjoying this journey of motherhood, the lows that make me want to try harder and be a better mother, and the highs that I'm rewarded with in hugs and kisses.

I'm most definitely not a Perfect Mother...but my own kids think I'm pretty fantastic.

And that's good enough for me.

What I want

Lately, I feel like three years' worth of tired smacked me in the backside and kept going, leaving tread marks down my poor body, smooshed in the road.

Aches and pains keep me up at night, stripping me of any hope for a chipper, rested morning. The more tired I feel, the harder it is to be a good mommy. My patience is stretched thin and I just don't feel like getting up for the fifty-second time to fetch a another snack, put in a DVD, help fit a puzzle piece, or open the too-tight jars of Play-Doh.

I struggle through each day, searching for activities that will bring bedtime closer... sooner. I pathetically hold on to hope that my husband will come home a few minutes early, just to get disappointed again and again as his overly demanding job pulls him into one more long phone call, one more meeting downtown, one more urgent email.

Honestly, people? I'm pretty annoyed that no one told me my life as Mommy would be truly, physically painful.
Don't get me wrong; I love my daughter more than anything on this planet. I would not give her up for all the riches, or comfort, or glory in existence.

But?
I. Am. Worn. Out.

I want to be a three-year-old for a week...

I want to make the household wake up when I say so. I want someone to efficiently fix my strawberry milk and pancakes, turn on my favorite shows, and cover my toes with a blanket that is both silky and soft. I want to wait until my cook/maid/general servant sits down for 16 seconds, then remind her that my cup is empty and I need more milk. I want to change my mind and select a DVD instead of a TV show, requiring her to get up once again to load the disc into the machine. I want to tell her when to play and what to play all day long - and all while she stays mentally on top of our schedules, my needs, my wants. I want her to anticipate my needs. I want to sit in my luxury wagon ride (with cupholders!) as she hoofs it down the road in 89-degree weather and 80% humidity just to entertain me. I want her to cook my dinner, clean my dishes, clean up my toys and books. 

Then, she can run me a warm bubbly bath, clean me, and help me into my favorite cozy jammies. She - or even the back-up servant at this point - can then hug me, read to me, and sing to me as I ease into a peaceful comfort. I want to be tucked into my big girl bed and given one extra kiss goodnight. I want to know that I am always safe. That I am always cared for. That I have no responsibility of my own.

I want to be a three-year-old. I want this for seven straight days.

Full service.

No worries.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll be refreshed enough to take over again.

- - - - -

Added note:  I wrote this Sunday night. Monday morning, my child slept until 9:04 a.m.! She has been playing independently all morning. It is noon, and I'm still wearing my PJs. Thank you child, for knowing what Mommy needed. I'll still take a week of being you but for now, this will do.

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Talkin' About 3 Moms In 1

Wordless (almost) Wednesday: Contentment

Contentment: The state of being contented

Contented: Accepting one's situation or lifewith equanimity and satisfaction

Synonyms?
               Gratified.
               Pleased.
               Happy.


We are doing great these days.

    My girl is kind.
       She is smart.
          She is creative.
             (She is potty trained!)

We are finally moving past our nightmare called the terrible twos. I can only remember putting her in one timeout in the past three weeks!

Every night, Daddy and/or Mommy ask her, "did you get any timeouts today?"

Her face brightens and her eyes twinkle when she is able to exclaim, "No! No timeouts today!"

Kids crave praise. They want to make us happy.

Amelia makes me happy. Finally, I am having fun being Mommy.

*Definitions from Dictionary.com

The first time

The first time I tucked you in, wonder outweighed fatigue. I could not sleep because I couldn't take my eyes off you.


The first time you rode in a car, you slept through it. For me, the world became a frightening place to drive.


The first time Daddy danced with you, I melted.


The first time you walked, I cheered you on.


The first time you rode a horse, I held on tight.


The first time you walked far from my side, I was proud and a little bit sad.

In a few days, you become a three-year-old. Whatever firsts may come our way over the upcoming years, two things are certain:

(1) I will always be there because you are always in my heart

(2) I will always be your cheerleader because I am proud of you

Happy almost birthday, my princess! I love you always and  forever.

My favorite mommy

Happy birthday to my mom!  If I am a good mommy to my little princess, it's because I learned from her.



When you wish upon a star

Two words: PRINCESS CASTLE



Two more words: MICKEY MOUSE



And take a look at this face!



Yep - our little family of three will soon enjoy a vacation at Walt Disney World! I am beyond excited. I have been to this magical land 4 or 5 times in the past, and I love it every time. With Amelia in tow, this is going to be the best visit ever! I cannot wait to see the gleam in her eye as she takes in the sights of main street U.S.A with Cinderella's castle looming beautifully ahead. I look forward to her giggles as she experiences the rides. I'll keep an eye out for characters and princesses so she may have her chance to meet them in person.

The great folks at Disney will supply her with a "my first time" button to wear throughout her trip. This button will ensure extra-special attention and service for our special princess. Soooo excited! Really, I am at a loss for words.

I am a rookie mom. Amelia is my one and only, and I am figuring out this mommyhood adventure one day at a time. As a rookie mom, I totally overcompensate by planning. I plan out everything to the last detail. I always want to be prepared. Experienced mamas probably toss the kids and some snacks in the car and head on over to the park. Not me. Even though we're not leaving for a while, I am already planning out the contents of our backpack.

So far, these items will be included in my Disney World Survival Kit:

• Antibacterial wipes (don't want to catch nasty viruses!)
• Small packs of tissues (for those stray boogies)
• Travel size sunscreen (for my princess' fair skin)
• Amelia-sized sunglasses (Tinkerbell, of course)
• My sunglasses (necessary in sunny Florida!)
• 8-oz bottles of water (hopefully small enough so they'll let us bring them in, saving on expensive park drinks)
• Granola bars and peanut butter crackers (again, trying to save on pricey snack breaks)
• Band-Aids (Disney characters, of course)
• Baby blanket (to diffuse tantrums)
• Small umbrella & ponchos (if the forecast is more than 20% chance of rain)

Surely, this rookie mom will be ready for anything!

Got any other suggestions?

I chose this prompt:
You know you’re a rookie mom when you…

A crack, not yet a breakthrough

Pregnancy was not easy for me. I battled migraines, skin issues, ligament pains, and occasional anxiety. Labor and delivery? Definitely NOT a simple experience. Motherhood? Well, if you read my blog regularly, it's pretty easy to figure out that I am far from perfect.

Amelia is 2 years and 10 months old tomorrow. I have shared many exciting joys and happiness-inducing laughs with her. I have also managed to wear myself out. I have battled anxiety and depression. And I paralyzed myself with fear upon any thought of a (gasp!) second child. I fear how my body will react to pregnancy hormones again. I fear more surgery after another delivery. I fear that a second child would never be able to match up to the awesomeness that is Amelia. We were blessed with a spunky, extremely smart, hilarious little girl. One who shows off her fake tattoos and plays rough with older boys. She's an independent person with an amazing spirit. What if a second child lets us down?  By the time I get over these terrible twos and potty training aggravation, I'm supposed to think about starting over?!? Goosebumps and chills. Yikes.

However, there is a tiny streak of a silver lining. I have begun to notice how much I love other people's kids. Amelia is #1 in my mind (mommy bias!), but I adore her little school friends. I enjoy the smiles I get from my friends' babies. None of these kids seem like a disappointment... surely my second child could never be!

Sometimes I call Amelia my little octopus. She is so clingy! I barely move more than 16 inches from her and she's running over to see what I'm doing. Mommy makes the best snacks. Mommy must change the Pull-Ups. Mommy must endure the wiggles and crowding by a preschooler in the restaurant booth.

Last night, I witnessed a miracle. We attended a Super Bowl party. I had already resigned myself to Amelia duty. I expected beforehand that I would not talk to my friends, I would attend to my little octopus. But this party? This party had kids! And toys! And a fabulous upstairs play area. The children watched The Polar Express and played with the toys. After a few minutes, the mommies went DOWNstairs. Amelia? She stayed up there! She had the time of her life playing with the other kids. Playing without a grown-up in immediate view. Maybe, just maybe, the chaos of a sibling's early years would be made good by the future years of playtime together. Perhaps Mommy could get a minute to herself?!?

Friends and family: Before you get excited, remember this is not yet a breakthrough. Child #2 is not in the works anytime soon. But I have definitely begun to crack. Maybe, just maybe, I could do all this again.

2012? Maybe.

Or maybe not!

Just don't pressure me. I'll get there on my own terms. Cross my heart.


Amelia, 9 weeks old

(Photo of a photo. Original copyrighted image taken by Lambert's Photography in Tennessee)

Remember me

A letter from Mom
April 2021

My lovely Amelia,

I cannot believe you are officially a teenager. You have grown up so fast, and I am so proud of the young lady you have become. You are intelligent, capable, and friendly - with that spunky gleam in your eye we first noticed within moments of your birth.

The next few years will be a whirlwind. You will soon enter high school, meet new friends, develop your interests, and begin to mold yourself into the person you want to be. If you ever need an extra boost or simply a hand to hold, remember me.

When you were almost three years old, I was your world. You held my hand wherever we walked. You insisted on sitting next to me at every meal. You kissed me goodbye before bouncing into your preschool classroom to play with your friends. Now, we don't kiss goodbye. I wouldn't dream of embarrassing you in front of your friends. But if you are ever feeling down or lonely, just remember me.

Your father and I joke with you about staying away from boys, but we do look fondly towards the day (several years from now!) when you meet the right guy. You are an amazing and strong person, and one day you will find someone who will treat you with respect and look at you with love forever. As you venture into the world of dating, you will meet different types of guys. Never sell yourself short - you deserve only the best. And if you ever suffer a broken heart, don't forget to remember me. As I tended your cuts & scrapes as a child, I will provide whatever you need in times of sadness.

We don't have to get along all the time. We don't have to be friends. It is a mother's job to help her child gain independence and eventually let her bird fly free. As I let you go physically, never forget that you are always tied to my heart. No matter what happens in your life, I will stand ready to support you.

In times of joy, remember me.

In times of self doubt, remember me.

In times of fear, remember me.

In times of anxiousness, remember me.

In the pain of defeat, remember me.

In moments of victory, remember me.

I will be your mother forever. And you will never have to traverse this world alone.


I love you forever and always,
-Mom

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

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.