For some reason felt the urge to curl up on the couch with my hot water (love tea and coffee but can't do them past 4pm or I'm up all night) laptop and cozy blanket and write. It might be this soft grey t-shirt I'm wearing; the feel of it is inspiring on my skin, makes me happy, makes me want to do other things that make me happy, like write.
But what to write about?
We are busy but managing. More than managing, we are doing quite well. We get lots of time together as a family, even with Joey's ongoing crazy schedule.
After speaking with my sister in South Africa, where hired help 8 hours a day to cook, clean, shop, do laundry and watch the kids is the norm, I decided to pool my resources and hire a nanny.
Since "NiNi" (the i's are long) has come aboard, becoming a part of our little family, I can breath again. My chest does not feel like it might implode on itself any second, like at the request of one more errand to run or meal to be made or sock pair to be folded. My hair has relaxed instead of standing on end like my finger was continually stuck in an electric socket (OK, maybe I didn't look like that, but that's how I felt. All of the time).
I have time to do things that make me happy, like looking through magazines for home ideas (I know! I know! Pinterest! I am so behind the times because I still like to hold a magazine! So shoot me!), exercise, and rolling on the floor with my kids.
I feel like a pretty good mom.
Sometimes, lately, I even get a glimpse of the freedom and carefree happiness that I had before becoming a full fledged married-with-kids, homeowning-in-a-depressed-market adult. And when those rare feelings re-surface, mentally I make a note of it. I remember how I used to be. And that somewhere in all the responsibility, she still exists.
But we do change. For one thing, this older me, buried in responsibility, has allergies to boot. Allergies! Ugh! They suck.
I will just be standing somewhere, lets say in line at Starbucks, and BAM! My nose starts running like someone turned a hose on and of course I don't have a Kleenex-hello? I am not even 30 yet, I definitely do not carry around "if needed" tissues-my eyes start watering like somebody real close to me just passed and then if I am really lucky I'll start to sneeze, big, loud elephant like sneezes that make anyone standing within a two-foot radius of me suddenly start to silently move as far away as they possibly can, while still maintaining their place in line.
My home renovation project is coming along. It's a work in progress, always. I am always moving this picture or thinking of something to paint, or what my next home purchase is going to be. It keeps me occupied and motivated to stay inspired.
I live off inspiration. It must somehow be related to hope. To feel inspired about something is also to feel hopeful about it-that there is something better to come. I am always looking for inspiration, for hope for my home, my marriage, my role as a mother, my career, even my physical body. When I am inspired I am full of hope and motivation to act, to keep going, to try again. Hope does not disappoint.