Remember me?

The answer is no, you don't.  Do you know why?  Because I hardly remember myself.  Lately there have been a lot of changes in my life.  I became the full time working parent and I started graduate school.  My little babies are no longer babies and my eldest son is already beginning to need a calendar all his own. These things have forced some changes in my outlook. Yes, I'm stressed. So much change has gone on in the past year that I can hardly remember the person I was just a couple of years ago.

I really don't recall what it was like to not have children.  I can't tell you what it's like to go out for a coffee with friends or to get a pedicure on my day off.   I can hardly remember what it's like to spend an evening alone with my darling husband.

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos I've managed to lose 100lbs. I began to feel the temptation to spend money I don't have on dressing my new self.  That temptation was nearly immediately squashed by the pile of bills on my desk and the cold weather clothing needs of my kids. The woman I am now has no idea what's in style anyway, I only know what I like. If what I like weren't in style, I'd probably wear it anyway. And so I've learned to embrace a new domestic art form.  The yard sale.  It's amazing what you can find when you bother to take the time.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't care about things like looking nice or making my home look beautiful or being part of a great social club. I do care, I just don't care enough to spend my time worrying about if I'm wearing the right shade of lipstick or if I'm on the acceptable side of argument.  I'm much more interested lately in what's important than what's fashionable.

One might think that with all this change I might begin to miss Me.  I don't.  I don't know that girl.  I'm putting this out there because, quite frankly, I don't care to keep trying to please people anymore.

Hold your horses.

 I don't mean to say that I'm about to go all off the deep end and start doing all kinds of crazy stuff, I just mean that I'm tired, I'm broke, I'm emotionally spent.  Trying to keep up appearances is exhausting and expensive and trying to keep up with old friends that only care about those trivial things is equally taxing, and so I'm done.

I've realized lately that while I may not know if dark wash denim is still in or who's in the top 40 there is a lot I do know that you can't get off the rack or learn from a tabloid.  I know the joy of singing my children to sleep and then falling asleep myself while they're still in my arms.  I know how it feels to be unconditionally loved.  I know that everything I have may be gone tomorrow and I've made my peace with that.  I know what it's like to hold the hand of a scared, sick, patient with no family and to be present for the last breath someone takes.  I know that what you have is not nearly as important as who you are and that if you let your "stuff" define you, you're going to be very disappointed.  I know that God loves me even though I'm me.

I'm finally comfortable in my own skin.

I'm the exhausted, hard working, loving, dedicated, goodwill shopping, coupon clipping, minivan driving, alpha-mom.  Keeping up with you is killing me, so I'm done. Take me or leave me, either way, I don't care. Your over-indulgent, selfish, spoiled ways will end you one day.  So thank you very much for all of the advice, I'm sure that you'll look fabulous in this year's Christmas letter. I'm just not interested in your idea of perfection anymore.