I got knifed

I dragged myself to the dreaded annual physical the other day. I should have been thrilled to be out of the house alone, but, honestly, this is not anymore exciting than getting the car inspected, which is basically the same thing, right? As I am the classic text book example of the most boring patient EVER (no smoking, no drinking, no dangerous extracurricular activities, etc.), I have to say that I was shocked when I became riddled with angst and feelings like I was being sent to the principal's office (which, I have heard, is miserable). Upon arrival, I felt compelled to explain to my doctor that this was not, in fact, my body. I was simply using this one as a loaner since my actual real body was tanned and taut and bikini clad and frolicking somewhere, like Bermuda or some other fabulous place. These aren't my stretch marks and this certainly is not my bottom (don't think he bought it) and gosh, there is no way that the 33 year old staring at me in the mirror could possibly be me. But, alas, it is me. And since it is me and that suspicious looking mole is on that arm that belongs to me, I was numbed and sliced and stitched and bandaged. And it hurt. But, I am ok and I know that it's better to listen to this body (hard) than to ignore it (easier). We should all take a closer (not mean and judgemental) look at ourselves and do what we can to stay strong and healthful and lead the lives that we would want our children to live. But, if anyone asks, I totally got knifed. That sounds so much cooler.

can I pull this off?

Last night, I went out with my bestest girlfriend. She is the kind of friend that needs no schedule of the night's events. More often than not, we tear out of the house while peeling a toddler (or, in her case, an old confused Papa) off of one leg and meet at the park-and-ride, just to get away. Let me preface this by first proclaiming the insane amount of love that I have for my sweet husband and my wonderful offspring. This being said, I sometimes just need a break. A break from being the maid and the short order cook and the entertainment committee and the dog walker. Just a short sanity break so I am not found rocking and drooling in the corner of the kitchen like one of those abandoned baby monkeys I learned about in Developmental Psychology. Somewhere between impulsively purchasing a zebra print skirt (so uncharacteristic of me) and realizing that we were looking at menus from a restaurant that we thought was a different restaurant, it dawned on me that I couldn't possibly be the only one on the planet that suffers from mom overload, memory lapses and momentary spells of poor judgement. And you know what? I am actually grateful for this dreadful awakening - I am slightly crazy. I don't know exactly what this means, but it feels good to be free (work in progress obviously) of some of the standards that I have painstakingly forced upon myself. So today, I will take an extra deep breathe instead of going off the deep end and I will be thankful that I have a great husband and terrific children (even when they are all annoying me) because when I look at the alternative - wow - way worse. And when I ask, "can I pull this off?", I have no other choice but to do just that - to step out of my comfort zone, take a chance in life every once in a while and wear the zebra print skirt proudly. I hope that if nothing else, loyal (wink) blog readers, I have offered you a smidge of perspective. I invite you to continue to let me regale you with tales from one mother to another...