I’ve become my mother.
I mean, I’ll be honest, in a lot of ways I’ve been there for quite some time.
Wildly inappropriate lullabies? Check.
Awkward misreads? Check.
Questionable coordination? Check.
Ability to lose glasses while wearing them? Check.
Weirdo magnet? Check.
More fabric/yarn/craft supplies than your average Hobby Lobby? Check. Check. And check.
And I’m okay with all of those things.
But this morning, I woke up and things were a little different. I realized that I’m absolutely over-committed and I have no stinking time for myself.
My mom is awesome, and we never lacked for attention, help or anything else from her. But I remember being a teenager and looking at her workload, her outside commitments and all the committees and everything else she did and realizing she never had any time for herself. Mostly because she had an undeveloped ability to say no to anyone who asked her for something. I vowed that no matter what else happened, I’d be sure to have at least a few hours to myself every week.
Well, I don’t know what happened, or where that girl went – the one who was determined to say no (at least sometimes) and carve out some time for herself. But wherever she is, I need her to come back, have a backbone and make time to do something fun. Something relaxing.
My mom finally figured it out – but not until she was in her late 50s. I can’t wait that long.
So I apologize for not being around much lately, but the stress of overcommitment and other life-type stresses are getting in the way of fun stuff like blogging. I hope you’ll be patient with my while I try to get rid of some of the chaos and find that girl who has time for fun things.