Last year of my 30's

It's official.  I'm now 39.  sigh

Fortunately, I have a whole year to get used to being 40.  Even better, all my friends are turning 40 before me (mwha ha ha).

My birthday was pretty dang fabulous. It started with the kids surprising me with cards and muffins. It takes a lot to surprise me, but they pulled it off with spades. I was very impressed!!

Then, I was completely surprised with a delivery of FOUR DOZEN roses from Ashley Yablon.  Even though we are no longer involved, he very sweetly remembered my birthday.  They are gorgeous flowers.

I was pleasently surprised when Melissa gave me a ring and wanted to go to lunch.  Loved spending some time with my dear friend!

That evening, my lovely friends brought the party to me.  I completely LOVED my birthday cake!  We all hung out, ate yummy food, and had magic mirror cake.  What a GREAT night!

Of course it was all made very special by this guy!  I was happy to share the evening with my new fella, Mike.

I count myself very lucky to have so many fantastic people in my life!  39 should be a banner year for Glenda!!

Joy 101

Joy.  Do you have it?  Do you want it?  How do we come across it?  I am asking because I don't know.  I keep saying I want joy in my life.  I keep willing myself to feel it, produce it, cultivate it.  I don't know if I can.  This is my journey.  This is my own Glenda Guide to Joy 101 (we'll throw in the number to make it feel official).  Here is my plan:  For one week I will wake up everyday and remind myself that today I will find joy.  Where that joy comes from is inconsequential.  My focus is set upon seeking and finding good.  I hope it centers my brain.

Another thing occurred to me just now as I stood up, walked around and pondered what I wanted to write.  I realized that every time my kids go to spend time with their Dad, I think, "This is my time to be selfish."  Hmmmm ... I'm focusing upon selfishness.  I'm cultivating a selfish lifestyle.  That is NOT who I want to be.  I have a new trick.  This time I'm telling myself, "This is my time to be selfless."  That means I need to step outside of myself and get things done - whether it's growing my business, helping a friend, smiling or sharing idle chitchat with a stranger ... this is my time to be selfless.  This is my time to grow.

I'm not sure how all this sounds to y'all.  One thing I do know is I've been hurting.  A LOT.  I want to stop.  I want to do better.  This is the only way I know how - writing, sharing, doing.  That just may be my own personal mantra; however, I'd have to add one more verb:  loving.  Life is empty without it.

Liberating, Lovely Lack of Responsibility

Welcome to Heaven on Earth 

It's Amelia Island, Florida and it is amazing.  We are surrounded by beautiful tall trees, lizards everywhere, green, green, green as far as the eye can see ... and then there's the beach.  This really is the best of both worlds.  As a Southerner, I love the sounds of summer - cicadas and night birds.  I also love the thick, wonderful feeling of heat in the evening.  It may sound weird, but it feels like home.  Here are a few pics from our trip so far.  We love the beach.  There is also a small pool at our Villa that is nice and relaxing.  I especially love sitting on the balcony in the morning and evening.  This is a lovely resort.  I feel so fortunate to be able to vacation here this year.

My 4 year old

I am so very lucky to have a four year old girl.  I am also very tired as well as constantly entertained.  I love that she cried, "But I just want to hang out with yoooouuuu." When I told her she had school this morning.  This video and the following pictures are a small sampling of her energy.  Lily talks from the moment she wakes up in the morning until her little eyes close at night.  She's a handful for sure!  I adore this little creature!!!

These pics were mostly taken by her while we walked home from preschool.  Who knew walking five blocks could take so long.  I'm learning to smell the flowers - literally, we smell EVERY flower!

Being a Mom Is Complicated

I have to write about something I'm kind of uncomfortable with:  my role as a mother.  What?!  How can I say this?  Whatever could I mean?  First, I have to acknowledge the sensitivity of this post.  Please don't judge.  I'm being completely honest and candid - so please, no judging.  Second, I have to confess this is MY issue.  My children are the most perfect people ever to step foot on the Earth.  THE most perfect people.  I don't know why I was given such wonderful people to raise.  God must love me.

I've always been pretty independent.  I was raised to be independent.  When you have nine children, you've got to let them take care of a few things on their own.  Looking back, I am so grateful to my parents - all of them.  I continue to be grateful for the wonderful parents in my life.  Few people are so fortunate, but I'm one of the lucky ones. ;)

With all these gifts of love, people, and great lessons, why do I struggle as a Mother?  Or better stated:  How do I struggle as a mother?  One word: Intimacy.  I'm independent still.  It's very difficult for me to understand appropriate boundaries in relationships with my children.  I'm afraid it seems like I don't care about the minute details of their lives.  I do care.  It's ALL I care about, but I'm so afraid of being too enmeshed.  I'm afraid of stifling their independence.  This causes me lots of anxiety.  I worry about them constantly.  I worry about their feelings, their actions, their friends and other interpersonal relationships.  I worry about where they're going in life and how they're going to get there.  I worry about not doing a very good job.  All of this worry and anxiety is suffocating me.  I would like to be rid of it.  There are times when I am free of this albatross.

The pic above was taken on a little mini break at our friend, Dan & Susan's, lake house.  It was a nice break.  The big kids took off fishing while Lily and I hung around the house relaxing.  I got to take a walk with just Noah - dogs running beside us.  It was a favorite moment for me.  We sat out by the fire pit from early afternoon to dark.  The kids collected sticks, bugs, leaves.  We laughed and explored.  I loved it.  That's why I love this picture.  I am in the center.  I hope to be the center of their world.  I try very hard to be their rock.

The past two years have been excruciating for me.  My marriage ended.  Another relationship that was very special to me ended.  I left the faith that kept me anchored for so long and along with it a social network.  I feel like I'm floating.  I don't feel like a rock.  Quite frankly, I'm a little sick of working so hard on myself.  I have to think - HAVE TO - that there's a reason for all this disruption and change.  There is a place I need to be in my heart and in my head.  I have no idea why, but like it or not I'm going to get there.  Dealing with this, on my own, is enough.  Dealing with it while attempting to cultivate, grow, and nurture three adorable, precious souls is daunting for me right now.  However, I am doing it.

Facing these struggles in my first challenge.  Openly exposing said struggles is my second.  Now it's time to conquer.  Time to read well written books by people who know what they're talking about.  Time to sit with each child, each day I'm able and tell them how very special they are to me.  If I do this by noticing a unique trait of theirs or congratulating an accomplishment or giving an extra long hug is unimportant.  What is important is facing those fears I have lurking in the back of my mind.  Understanding that anxiety.  Then promptly kicking it's ass.

I tell the kids something to make them laugh/cringe, "Hey!  I know you!  I GREW you!"

I sure do miss the fantastic woman who grew me.  I'm grateful to have so many other women who've tended and cared for me, who've "grown" me in so many other ways throughout my life.

Maybe that's part of the lesson I'm supposed to learn:  It's not about being the person you think you are, it's about loving the person you actually are.  After all, there's nothing my children can do to make me stop loving them.  Why is it so hard to love ourselves when we know there are others who can't help loving us regardless of what we do or who we are?  There's my lesson learned for the day.  I will go forward from this point on not worrying about my faults and anxieties in regards to my relationship with my babies, but I will instead appreciate the mother I am to them.  Through this practice, improvement is inevitable.  I will love myself for what I am giving.  I will transfer that love to those little people (who are everyday growing bigger) in order for them to understand how amazing they are.

Run On ...

I'm not an avid runner.  I'm just not.  I've been running for years.  Most of the time it's sole purpose is to purge my guilt from consuming a pint of Ben & Jerry's.  Last year these guilt purging runs took on an entire new purpose.

I began 2011 over 200 lbs.  Not proud of that, but I'm going to admit it.  I took a chance and decided to try the HCG diet.  Was it easy?  No.  Was it worth it?  YES.  I started 2011 50 lbs. lighter and much, much happier with my physical appearance.

The funny/strange thing about HCG is you can't exercise.  As in don't exercise!!  When I finished the diet and went into maintenance, it was strange to one day feel this surge of power.  I didn't just want to exercise, I HAD to exercise. For me the easiest, most effective way to feed this need is a run.  I donned my gigantic running shorts and over sized t-shirt and hit the street.

Oh. My. Gosh.  I could run.  I mean - I COULD RUN.  I wasn't tired.  It didn't hurt.  I felt like I was floating on air.  Running was ... fun.  I enjoyed it so much, I ran day after day.  One day, my hip started acting up.  It hurt.  Bad.  So, my running hit another hiatus.

I won't take you through a boring timeline of events.  If you've read this blog you'll know I've had a lot going on in the past year.  Running has been kind of a pipe dream for me.  I'm tired.  Overwhelmed.  In short - in need of exercise, but not taking the time to do it.  Last week I had a wake up call.

For days I'd been saying, "I just want to go for a run.", but I never seemed to have any time.  ANY.  I was cranky, tired, over committed.  What was a girl to do?  Finally, Friday night I was getting ready to meet a friend for dinner when I couldn't stand it one more second.  I had to run.  After shooting a text of explanation, I quickly changed clothes and set out. 

Initially, the cobwebs were a bit sticky in my joints.  My movements were slow, felt a bit labored.  I put Luscious Jackson Radio on Pandora and seemed to find my groove.  I took my normal route through the neighborhood.  Each step gave me clarity and peace.  The cobwebs cleared away.  My body seemed to sing in joy.  I was so happy to feel loose and warm.  As I hit downtown, I seemed to find my stride.  With my side street exit, I hit the ground at top speed.  I never do that.  It felt nothing less than AMAZING.

I was filled with gratitude.  I was so grateful my hip didn't hurt.  So grateful my legs work.  So grateful I found a way to clear my head.  So. Very. Grateful.

I don't think I'll start running every day, but I will run at least once a week.  I've discovered the key for my psyche:  Run On.

Happy Valentines Day!

May we all have a kiss like this

Blackbird

There are times a song can speak to your soul.  Blackbird made me cry for joy.  It moved me.  It's my new theme song.  Here are the words.  Enjoy!

Blackbird - The Beatles

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

I feel like a silly school girl seeing they did this on Glee.  Then again, I LOVE Glee - so pfffttt.  They also did my other absolutely favorite song & theme song for 2011 "Defying Gravity" from Wicked.



It's a weird place to be - in the middle of the rest of your life.  Is this a destination I'll reach again and again?  Is that "normal"?  I've worried a lot about being normal.  My entire life I've fretted over my own "normalcy".  I'm anything but normal.  I digress - that thought merely makes me laugh.  Why have I worried so very much about being "normal"?  Perhaps because I've forever felt different.

I realized something today.  OK, I've always known this - it makes me feel weak and needy though so I like to pretend it isn't true.  I don't like to be alone.  I mean ... I like to be alone, but I don't like to be alone.  I'm the youngest of nine.  In my formative years, people were constantly around me ... CONSTANTLY.  I didn't mind.  I really enjoy the hum of life.  I like to pick up on conversations and drama.  Stories unfolding all around me make me happy.  When I'm home by myself I only have my own story and so I write.

Thing about writing is --- well, quite frankly, you're seeing my soul.  It's liberating for me to put my thoughts and feelings out there.  At the same time, now you all know (gasp) ME.  It's terrifying to me.  I like to hear all those other stories.  I like to glean experience and knowledge from perceiving others.  This little outlet of mine turns those tables right around.  Scary.

Where is this going?

Being alone.

For having such a large family, they hardly ever talk to me.  Why is this?  I'm not egocentric enough (what?!) to think it's all about me or that I'm the only member of a large family who has this problem.  I think it's more prevalent in large families.  When you grow up as one of many, it can be difficult to shine or feel like anyone craves your time and attention.  I crave time and attention.  I love it.

Recently I was given a gift.  I got to slink back into the old role of listening and gleaning joy from life happening around me.  It was Christmas Eve.  My sister, Melissa, invited me over to celebrate with her & our brother, David's, family with my Dot & Happy Joe.  I have to admit it was hard to get dressed and get over there that night.  I was sad.  I was super super super sad and missing my children horribly.  I pulled my big girl panties on and went over to celebrate a holiday with my family.  Upon walking in the door, I was greeted with screams of "Aunt Glenda!!  Aunt Glenda is HERE!!!"  All my sorrow melted.  All my own angst and sadness - gone.  They were super happy I was there so they could start the gift exchange (yeah I know that), but they also gave me hugs and smiles and were genuinely happy to see me.  It made my day.  It transformed my attitude.

During the excitement, chatter, and activity I decided to take a back seat for a moment to soak it all in completely.  I sat back, away from the hum of activity.  I pretended to do something on my phone when what I was really doing, what I was loving and savoring - were the laughs, screams of this and that, talk between cousins, a brother and sister.  I loved it.  I was alone, but completely surrounded.  I prefer life that way.

Death Year

This will probably get dark so ... if you're wanting funny Glenda - come back later.  I'm tapping into my dark side and getting it all out.

I am 38 years old.  I have three children aged 14 (almost 15), 12, & 4.  My birthday is August 7th.

My mother was 38 years old.  She had six children aged 17, 15, 12, 10, 9, & 4.  Her birthday is August 10th.  She died on December 27, 1977. 

This is my death year.

It totally messes with your head. 

My mother is Epic in my mind:  all-knowing, brave, strong, funny, smart, a consummate reader, talented writer.  She's everything I want to be in life.  She only lived to be this old (as old as I am).  WHAT?!  How is that possible?  How could she be everything in the world to me when her life was extinguished at this point?  It's insane.  It's impossible.  I am nothing.  I know nothing.  I am fallible.  Have I wasted my time?  Not honed all those skills ... or was she not perfect?

Oh, she would be laughing to read that.  She would say something like, "Sister!!  I am NOT perfect!"

I miss my mother.  I really miss my mother.  I'm not naive enough to think we would have always gotten along or that I would have been able to appreciate everything she is, but I do miss having someone who "gets" me like I know she did (or would be able to). 

I had a dream the other day.  I dreamt that I was dying.  I was okay with it until I thought about my children.  At that point I started begging and bargaining to live.  It was too late.  I was dead.  Accepting my death, I promised/threatened to be involved with their lives until they no longer needed me.  Then it hit me that they would always need me.  I gladly accepted sticking by their sides until they joined me in death.  I was okay with that.  Instantly, I started planning how I could be there - without being there through friends, teachers, other women.  What a thought provoking dream.  I really found it interesting.  I really feel like my mother has done that with me so far and continues to place people in my life whom I need or whom need me.  I feel her with me often.  Sometimes, it hurts worse than being alone because I want a hug ... or a good laugh ... both?!

I've been dreading this upcoming day for a long time. This has been a year of many changes.  MANY. There are days when I don't want to go on.  I want to give up and lie in bed all day crying.  I'm not good at that so instead I make myself busy.  Then, when I'm in euphoric busyness I'm able to start looking on the bright side and searching for positives.  It's not always easy, but I can usually pull it off.

This past week has been more difficult.

The kids were with their Dad for Christmas.  We celebrated before since Lily's birthday is the 26th.  I have to admit, I cried my eyes out numerous times throughout the previous week.  I was lonely.  I was sad.  I was mourning.  Today, I got busy.  I did things.  I thought of positives.

I had a breakthrough:  My purpose.  As a stay at home Mom I had a purpose.  I didn't have to justify it.  I didn't have to prove myself, but I did.  I became incredibly efficient.  Menus, cleaning, laundry, extra curricular activities, Ladies' Nights Out, etc. were my job.  I was really good at Mom.  Mom is hard to get used to, but once you're there - cake.  I loved it.  My fulfillment kept me where I was for a long, long time.  Now I'm on unsteady ground.  I don't really know how a few aspects of my life are going to turn out. So ... I'm a bit nervous.  Some days, I don't make my bed(gasp).  My house isn't always perfect.  I don't eat right when the kids are gone.  I don't sleep well either.  I'm learning how to be alone with myself.  It's not always fun.  I'm off to find my purpose!  Where is the Wizard when you need him?!  Do I need a heart?  Courage?  A brain?  A way home?  All four?!!!

I haven't lacked this many answers in a long time.  Somehow, when the kids are with me, it's easier for me to forget caring about the answers.  As soon as they leave I'm left with myself, no answers, and my purpose runs out the door behind them.  It's an interesting debacle.

I started writing this a few days ago.  D day has come and gone.  I don't know how to feel.  It's over.  I've now lived longer than my mother.  How very wrong, but how very exciting.  She wouldn't mind me being excited about the upcoming days which lie ahead, unraveling themselves like a ribbon wrapped around the gift of life.  It's a beautiful thing to be alive.  It's a wonderful experience to love your days. 

In the upcoming minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, etc.  I hope to give my Mother reason to be proud.  If she is with me or sending people to guide me, my wish is to make her smile.  Our lives, our existence isn't measured in time, but in experience and in our purpose for said experience.  My Mother gained the experience she was supposed to have.  She was finished.  As much as I hate to be blunt about it, I believe that.  As many times as I've cried with sorrow from missing her, I believe she left in her own time.

When will my time come?  I have no idea.  My goal is to drain the experience out of this life and then record it -- because life is simply beautiful.  I'm glad to be alive.

I miss you Momma.

What's In a Name?

So ... the question on so many people's brains lately is "Are you divorced yet?" 

The answer is "Yes."  I'm so private about this.  I really don't like to talk about it.  I think this is a respect issue.  I respect Tracy.  I respect our role as parents.  This is personal - and private.

What isn't private is what's out there.  What's out there is my name.  I have gone back to being "Glenda Miller".  Why?

This is an interesting issue for women.  I had some strong opinions about name changing while I was married.  It always bothered me when women would keep their maiden name.  I mean it bothered me.  I saw/see it as a lack of commitment.  I may be more convinced of that now.  Changing your name changes your life.  New driver's license, new name on utilities, credit cards, bank accounts.  It's HUGE!  And it's a pain.  Anyway, I went round and round about this in my mind before making a decision. 

Initially I wanted to keep "Montierth" so I would have the same last name as my children.  Makes sense.  They've been through enough.  Why further confuse them with Mom having a different name?  Then again, half their family has that name.  It isn't unfamiliar.  I'm still "Mom" to them. 

I started thinking of the future.  Eventually, my name will change again.  When that happens, would it appear to further sever my connection to my kids (in their eyes) if I went from "Montierth" to "X"?  Would they view Mr. X as pushing them away from their Mom in a very figurative way?  I didn't want that for the future Mr. X.  When he comes on the scene, I want every positive to be available.  I want to show my kids that any future relationship I have is about me being happy, not being separated from them.

It may appear as if I over think things.

Regardless of my personal anxiety, my decision was made.  I would change my name back to "Miller".  At least my monogram remains the same.

The question on many people's minds:  "How did the kids take it?"  Well, they seemed to think it made sense.  I made sure to emphasize that they shouldn't harbor any anxiety around it.  Especially hit home the idea that if I am referred to as "Mrs. Montierth" or "Glenda Montierth" it's just fine.  I won't get upset or openly correct anyone.  This little reassurance produced sighs of relief.

What's in a name?  I'm not so sure who this Glenda Miller chick is going to turn out to be, but so far she's doing alright.

"Most Improved"

Look at this girl.  She's fantastic.  She is what I've called a "Triple Threat" for years:  beauty, brains, and a great sense of humor.  I've been her biggest fan since the day I saw her on a sonogram.  I've loved her since I dreamt of her.  She's my girl.

I just have to show both my girls - since I tell each one of them "You're my Girl!"  They are the best girls to set foot on our planet.

That being said, imagine the guilt I felt after this necessary, but painful talk:

Me:      Abby, how are you doing in Cross Country?
Abby:  Oh, ok.  I'm in the last group.  It's really hard.
Me:      The LAST group?  Really?  Why is it "hard"?
Abby:   I don't know.  It's hard.  I'm trying.
Me:      Well, obviously, not trying too hard if you're in the last group.
Abby:   Mommmmm
Me:      Ab, don't be THAT girl.
Abby:  What girl?
Me:      The one in the last group.  Push yourself.  Live up to your potential.  Don't be satisfied being in the last group.

She was quiet.  She rolled her eyes.  I could tell I annoyed her.  I'm getting used to that.

But ...

At the Cross Country Banquet she was given an award:  Most Improved.  She took 5th in the JV 5A Regional Meet.

Now ... THAT'S MY GIRL!!!  Show me some Sass!!

New Home, New Life, New Start

Here is my cute little house.  Or as I call it:  My happy little house of healing.  My new vessel of self-discovery.

The past few months have been nothing less than epic for me.  I don't necessarily mean "epic" in the way the young folks mean it.  I mean it in the very Homeresque sense of a journey.  I'm sure I'm nowhere near my destination; however, I'm learning a lot.  Let's hope I'll be able to keep the Sirens at bay and stay focused on my final destination.  If I'm not and I do, at times, go off course - I'm confident in my abilities to once again recall my journey and set myself on my intended path.

Writing is huge is this task.  It keeps me focused.  Helps me center myself when I start spinning ... and those of you who know me well KNOW I'm the master of the spin.

Over the past year, I've become increasingly grateful.  Oh, I suppose this gratitude has been building for awhile now.  I am so grateful for --- people.  Yes, yes, it's not uncommon for me to steal one of my dear friend's favorite phrases, "I hate people"; however, for the most part, I don't hate people.  People astound me.  For so many years, I have felt this pressure to be perfect.  As if there was some invisible gauge hovering over my head which tallied how awesome I am.  Of course, my awesome reading is expected to be way above anyone else's ... and let's face it - it is. (big grin)  What I'm learning is people like you a whole lot more when you're maybe NOT quite so awesome.  What???  It's true.  I was fake.  I was phony.  I was transparent.  I was miserable.  Let's be honest here - I wasn't miserable because of anyone else.  I was miserable because of me. 

Perfectionist.  That's what my personality test said.  I couldn't comprehend that - at all.  Perfectionist?!  What the heck??  ME????  Um ... I had failed out of college, worked more than one job for ages, struggled to get by, was consistently late ... PERFECTIONIST???  That test had to be wrong.  It bothered me.  I was anything but. I was damaged.  I made horrible decisions.  Over the years, I've pulled out that personality test and read over it time and again.  I realized perfectionism doesn't mean you're perfect - merely that you expect yourself and those around you to be perfect.  Wow.  Now ... that's true.  So many times I've invested faith in people who don't deserve it.  I've seen the best of  those around me, ignoring faults, working around idiosyncrasies to further concentrate on how perfect they were.  It was a way for me to compete (if they did X, I did Y - and thus furthered my perfection because my awesome meter gauged my awesomeness higher).  What it truly does is ruin relationships. 

I have friends, my very close friends, whom I've known for over 30 years.  We haven't always been BFFs in those 30 years.  Any one of them can recount a time when we struggled in our relationship.  What keeps us close is our willingness to accept one an other's faults and give allowances when needed.  It ain't easy.  However, the reward is great.  I love my friends.  I know that if I died today, each one would have a different perspective on something important I would want done and each one would understand how essential their role is.  Do we know this because it's been discussed?  Not really.  I think we understand our roles in the friendship realm because we allow one another to be who we are.  It's liberating.  I love them for it.  Hear that guys?  I love you!

I'm learning the importance of light hearted fun friends as well.  Everyone does not have to know ALL my nitty gritty.  Uh - anymore - why would I want to burden someone "new" with all my intimate details?  I wasn't able to buffer that in years past.  I had so many emotions, so many fears, so much guilt inside that it was an exhausting, constant struggle to keep it all inside.  I couldn't do it.  Well ... I attempted it for nearly 20 years, but I was ready to crack.  Who am I kidding?  I cracked - it was essential.  Back to my point - fun friends are FUN.  It's nice to know you can hang out and talk about silly stuff.  Gosh, I LOVE talking about silly stuff.  When I get the chance to go off on ridiculous tangents and make up funny things --- heaven!!  I love these people!!  They're also the ones who end up being crazy supportive when bad things happen.  It's easy to help someone you only know as fun - there's no judgement only love and concern.  Fun friends turn into lifelong friends.  I'm learning that as well.

Let's talk about strangers.  You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat a stranger.  Warm smile.  Light chit chat.  Holding the door open.  Allowing someone ahead of them in line.  All signs of a good person.  I watch people.  I have no interest in rude people - unless they're funny.

Alright, I'm not trying to compose the Iliad so I should wrap this up and bring it all home.

What do people have to do with my journey?  They ARE my journey.  Listening, watching, appreciating, being kind - all essential in my journey.  So are:  boundaries, boundaries, boundaries.  This is where I am right now.  I am in the land of boundaries.  I am learning how to treat myself.  Hardest. Lesson. Ever.  My perfectionist self is there for everybody else, never myself.  I am always accessible.  Always up for whatever "You" are doing - whomever you may be.  I am learning to guide myself.  Make time for myself.  Sometimes ... not to have a clean house or dinner made because I had to do __________ for myself.  This may sound stupid to you, but it is monumental to me.  HUGE.  I strapped on my crampons and headed for Everest, huge.

I am done suffocating giant loads of emotions.  I am done trying to be the most awesome (because I already am, of course).  I am done living my life to gain other people's approval.  I am on a journey.  Some days I really enjoy it.  Others ... not so much.  But I'm moving.  I'm not static.  And I'm getting there - slowly, but surely.  

Perfect Pensacola

We just spent a week in wonderful Pensacola Beach, Florida.  Beach = Happy.  Summary:  Abby is a surf chic, Noah is in love with the water & building sand castles, Lily likes sand in moderation, & Glenda loves to sleep on the beach.

We were there with my sister, Melissa, & her family as well as my brother, Dave, & his family.  Fun! Fun! Fun! 

I'm going to skip all the wordy details and just go with the pics!

Well ... a few wordy details:  Best Family Ever!