So, lately I've, uh, been a little vulnerable up in here (up in here).
I'm not ashamed of it. I know that it's courage. I know that it's a good thing. But for goodness sake, if I lived in that vulnerable place all the time, I'd lose my mind (up in here).
This is a problem for me. Because I've decided that writing is Important. Really important. And I want to keep showing up and doing the work, even when it doesn't feel good. I want to keep writing as if I don't care whether anyone is reading. (Except I do care. And I'm okay with caring. So, uh, read it please.)
So. In the interest of showing up and writing and being real and authentic, and also of keeping us all out of the pit of despair, here's some truth.
I'm having a cup of tea right now.
My baby can sign "more" and "all done," although the latter looks more like she's just raising the roof.
My big girl can spell and type her first name. I didn't even think I taught her that.
I'm wearing jeans that I bought at Target without trying on, and they're really too big.
I mopped my kitchen floor today.
There are already strawberries on it again.
I brushed my hair and put on BB cream and lip gloss and mascara three days in a row.
Rutgers has a 4-1 record. What?
Life has been happening and is pretty okay really.