I must start my Xanga routine much earlier in the evening. It does my ego good to tell myself that if I did so earlier — before dinner, dishes, laundry, the kids and various other duties drain all my energy — that I would somehow become much more interesting.
I long for days gone by that when just sitting at a keyboard would somehow entice the words to flow from my mind, through my fingertips and onto the page. The words are still there most days, but somehow don’t seem as deep or probably as widely entertaining as they once were. Generally they (they meaning my words) are about my kids. Past an audience made up of myself, hubby, grandparents and a few of my devoted friends, I truly doubt my kids have a large, devoted fan base. Although, they are beautiful, smart and compelling children. (I’m only a “little” biased )
And speaking of things that I long for — I want to not feel frumpy. I’ve been fighting the battle of “frumpiness” for some time now. I read and I’m told that’s it’s all a state of mind but my mind feels, well for the lack of words to better describe it, frumpy.
I want to feel put together, attractive, confident and with it — not rushed, wrinkled and some days, unattractive. I do have my days that, for a fleeting moment, I feel like I might still have “it” (whatever “it” is). I had one of those days pretty recently.
One day last week I got up and got ready for work. The clothes seemed to work that day. I had on a great pair of shoes I found hidden in the back of my closet and it was a good hair day. Most women understand the importance of great shoes and good hair days, especially when they are paired together! It was an all-around good morning.
I went to work feeling attractive, confident and when walking down the hall, I felt like one of those women who ooze with the aforementioned “it.” It was great. Then I had to push my luck. I had to dig to the bottom of my purse looking for lip gloss to finish off the look. In doing so, I started spilling out a plethora of gummy bears, Happy Meal toys, barrettes and other items my children feel are needed in my purse. I was starting to lose my air of put togetherness.
“Okay,” I thought to myself. “No one saw that. I can save my mood.” I quickly gathered everything up and tucked it back into my bag. I made my way to the restroom to apply the lip gloss. In checking myself in the mirror. I turned around to reveal a perfect little hand print in peanut butter on my backside. It was a sweet reminder of the goodbye hug I’d received from my little one that morning, but a killer for a good hair day!
Good night everyone.