A little, okay a lot honest.

When Harry Met Sally was right, the words just hung there in the air in a comic book speech bubble. I want a divorce. There was no taking them back and I didn’t want too. We talked and then he left. And I cried.

I cried from relief.


Today I am over at Just Be Enough talking about the Best Gift ever…divorce. Be gentle, I ripped the band aid off.

Standing Tall

Mommy & Sleeping Huck
This week I wrote a real live article. Like, for a real live y’know, professional thingy. And I get like, paid. How weird is that?

You know what happened? I procrastinated and procrastinated and procrastinated. And then I put it off. I couldn’t seem to find a hook, a phrase to get me started. I couldn’t find my voice, and if there is one thing I do…it is write with voice. But this marked a new avenue for me. This was real. Not that blogging isn’t. Blogging is very real and I owe it so much!  I take blogging seriously,and I work hard on every guest post or assignment. But this was, dare I say it, a JOB.

My insecurities were running at a crazy warp speed. I can’t write. I’ll never be anything. Why didn’t I learn a real skill? Why didn’t I get a degree? Why can’t I lose the last ten pounds of baby weight? I just worried and worried and worried myself into a hurricane of panic.

A casual conversation with a friend brought out an anecdote that just opened the flood gates for my article. The words flowed far past the allotted amount. I felt sick to my stomach as I sent it off. And held my breath till I had a response. It was good. The response was good!

I couldn’t stop smiling all night. I kept reliving the words leaping off the email telling me I had done well. And I physically stood a little taller. Confidence. I felt it and it felt good. It’s been so long since I was confident, really confident and oh my god it was like a welcoming back good friend. A friend that I’m hoping stays a while.

{Join us at Just Be Enough!}

Preschool. A juice box for him and a juice box for me. Mine has vodka in it.

“I’m going to go to school and play games and check my messages.” The Boss

Today is Max’s preschool picnic. It’s happening. He is going to go to school. My tiny boy is going to school! Will he make friends? Will the teachers be kind to him? Will they see how beautiful, sweet and caring he is? Will they protect him from mean kids? For the first time he will be out of my sight. Out of my protection. He cannot wait. I’m just trying not to cry. Over a picnic. How on earth will I survive next Tuesday when I really drop him off…and leave?

Hold me, blogland.