Usually I have an overflow of words coming out of my brain. An endless supply of stories, rants, jokes, etc. Today though, not so much. I think a combination of sheer exhaustion from 3 nights of far too little sleep, the disbelief that we now have bees escaping from their hive INTO my house and a mouse family that seems to have not only moved into the walls but now hired an interior designer to make them feel even more at home. I’m also overwhelmed with frustration in not being able to sell my expertise to a company that I KNOW would benefit from having me there and now after interviewing with them realizing that I really am ready to get back to work. And finally, I have those damn medical concerns I spoke of yesterday. All of this has led me to a complete shut-down in the creative blog-writing side of my brain (there is such a part you know). You might THINK that all I listed above would provide me with enough to write about, but it’s all too depressing. I need to elicit some sort of positive emotion from you when you read what I write (or at least leave you shaking your head in disgust, disbelief or horror), not depressed. So, I wandered over to MamaKatslosinit.com knowing that her fabulous blog offers prompts to get the juices flowing each week. It’s my first time borrowing a prompt, but I see lots of people do it so I’ve succumb to peer pressure. Hopefully it won’t lead to my going out to buy “conversation cards” to use at my next party.
So the prompt I’m using is #4 on her list, “When I look into the mirror…” It’s ironic that I’ve chosen this one being that I so rarely look in the mirror these days. I probably should look in the mirror more, honestly. Maybe if I did, I’d see the blue marker line drawn on my cheek. Maybe I’d see the sticker that Hannah stuck to my chest without my knowing. Maybe I’d see that I so desperately need an eyebrow wax. Maybe I’d see the Breathe Right that Tim so lovingly stuck on my shoulder as he got out of bed in the morning (did you know Breathe Rights work wonders for snoring?). Maybe I’d see that I’m still wearing my pajama shirt before I ran out of the house. Maybe I’d see that I have oatmeal goo on my jeans. Maybe I’d see the hickey that Tim left on my neck (Ha! Wanted to make sure you’re all still with me!).
At the same time, it’s probably good that I don’t look in the mirror so often. It might make me sad that I look so unbelievably tired all the time. I’d probably be frustrated that my hair is such a mess most days. I’d probably want to go out and spend more money on makeup to brighten myself up! I’d probably want to kick myself for having the look of impatience when dealing with my kids. I most likely would see the mess behind me in the room and know I just don’t have the time to do anything about it. This way I can at least pretend that I look half way decent and can pull off not showering for ONE more day.
But here’s what I DO see when I actually slow down and take a look at myself. I see someone who might BE 37 but in my head is still 27. I see someone who feels lucky that she can be in her pajamas all day if I want to since my kids certainly aren’t judging me for what I’m wearing. I see someone who finally after too many years of feeling “fat” is fine with my weight. I see my daughter next to me, pretending to put on my makeup, brushing her hair, imitating my every move and I remember doing the exact same thing 33 years ago. I see my blonde son and laugh that I gave birth to someone that looks so different from me. I see more freckles than I should have, but don’t regret having because they remind me of so many fun days this summer. I see a paint splattered shirt that reminds me that I had FUN today (even if that paint project only lasted 7 minutes). I see a girl, a mom, a daughter, a friend, and a wife and I then remember why I look so tired. And then I see the clock behind me and realize I’m late picking Hannah up at school, haven’t made dinner, and I notice that Luke is treacherously climbing the doggy stairs up to my bed while carrying 3 balls in his hands.
And here in lies the reason that I choose NOT to look in the mirror.