Who am I?

I mean, life’s too short to be worried about what people are going to think if you dye your hair purple at 32.

It just is. 

I’ve been seeing purple hair on Pinterest for months, and I have just obsessed about it.

And then grown up night on Saturday turned into a botched dye job I had to fix, and I was standing in the color aisle and saw “dark violet velvet” and said, “Eff it.  I will have purple hair!” 

And I do now.  Have purple hair.  And I don’t regret it in the least.

I collided with this brick wall because my baby….my very small daughter…is just zooming right along taking first steps and being just gorgeous and perfect and amazing.  And my oldest turned five years old and talks incessantly about what he’ll be when he grows up and my middle boy.  Ugh.  He’s just incredible.  He sings Aerosmith songs and screams at the TV with me when we watch football and picks out light up shoes all by himself.

I have this stupid perfect life.  And I’m clinging to it because it’s rushing by so fast. 

Like, who does Vivian think she is trying to walk at eight freaking months old?!  This is my last time getting to experience it, and as in love with all of this as I am, it’s also killing me to be creeping toward the end of my “last first year.”

And so my whole life is about my family, which I love.  But they just insist on growing up and figuring out what they love and who they are.

So, taking a cue from them, um, who the hell am I?  What do I want outside of raising these amazing children?  What will I do when they are gone?  Because I’ve watched women who make their children their entire life and then have no idea what to do with themselves after their kids pack up and jet off into the wild blue yonder.

I’m a mom, yes.  I’m a wife, yes.  Those are two extremely important roles I play.

But I’m also a woman independent of my family.  A woman who wants purple hair and to get another degree and to spend her weekends getting mud on her boots and practicing to get her concealed handgun license and hanging out with her redneck friends who take her to the gun range and teach her everything she needs to know about a sport that makes her as giddy as football Sundays.

I’m a woman who wants to get more exercise and eat good foods and run around the backyard with her pitbulls.  I want to invest in all of the people around me and stop being afraid to make new friends and allow new people to see who I am and to stop second guessing my desires.  I want to stop ever, ever, ever asking the question, “but what will people say?”  Because, seriously, who cares? 

My family isn’t going to stop loving me if I dye my hair purple and take on two pit bulls and learn how to shoot guns and go back to school. 

People who truly love you want you to be happy and fulfilled.  As long as you aren’t doing things that are destructive, the people in your life may not understand your choices, but if they love you, they’ll support you for just living your life and finding your space to be happy in the world independent of them.

The people in my life are so beautiful and important and give me so, so much happiness.  But there is a danger in allowing your entire being to be dependent on others.  You have to be able to live fully independently of your relationships with others. 

And so that’s what I’m working on.  I’m working on giving myself permission to just make my own choices about things like having purple hair and dressing the way I’m comfortable and loving the music I love and living in a zoo full of people and animals. 

None of it hurts anyone, so who cares?  I have to just keep pushing toward finding the me who remains when all the people in my life are stripped away and I stand on my own.  That’s the person my family needs, and that’s the person I deserve to be.  And so I shall.  Purple hair and all.

R&R

Friday, my parents kindly requested the presence of Miss Vivian Grace for an evening of being spoiled rotten.  Jimmy and I agreed, rented a movie, and fell asleep on the couch watching it.

I've been fighting a cold that took violent hold of me on Saturday.  I couldn't stop sleeping.  Never one to complain about sleeping, Jimmy was a good sport and napped right along with me.  

Finally, at about 2ish, I called my mom to see if she wanted Jimmy to retrieve the baby when he went to the store to get me some Tylenol cold and flu.

Me: "Do you want Jimmy to grab Viv on the way back from Kroger?  "
Mom: "What's wrong?  Are you sick?"
Me: "Eh, yeah, I have a cold.  Jimmy is going to get me some medicine."
Mom: "Well, we're shopping for Vivian a new wardrobe, and she doesn't need to be around you.  You better leave her with me."

Let me tell you how heartbroken I was to be able to continue to lounge around trying not to cough up vital organs.  

I'm so grateful that my family genuinely enjoys spending time with my kids.  I love them to pieces, but being off "mom duty" when you feel bad is really nice.  Not that Jimmy would have made me tend to her by myself or anything.  It was just nice not to have to worry about it at all.

Eventually the medicine kicked in, and Jimmy and I made an incredible meal on the grill and played cornhole in the backyard and built a fire in the fireplace.  It was one of those great nights where nothing special happens but everything is perfect anyway and you just appreciate the one you're with.

And then I slept in again on Sunday....and then I watched the Cowboys work their way to 4 and 1...even after some hater I know text me a picture of AT&T Stadium and told me to go there if I was worried about Ebola cause "no one ever catches anything" there.  (rolling eyes now).  

Jimmy went to bed early, and I read until my eyes crossed, and I couldn't stay awake anymore - I love books that make me do that!

Tonight it's back to business as usual, but this weekend was a nice little timeout to rest and regroup and spend some solo time with my hubby.  I'm grateful for a family that gives me that opportunity.

"Shotgun shuts his cakehole"

Judgeyness is my least favorite quality in people.  Rejoining the ranks of Facebook (and having a joint account with someone who posts all the things) has opened me back up to snarky and judgmental comments (cleverly camouflaged as jokes with an "lol" thrown on the end - I'm on to you) from that lovely social media gem.

Here's the thing: yes, I basically live in a zoo.  Yes, five people and four dogs is quite a lot.  Do I always love dressing four people in the morning or waking up at 5 to let out dogs?  Nope.  Sure don't.  Do I sometimes want to scream because I'm continuously tripping over the three kids and four dogs who are incessantly under my feet?  Yep, sure do.  Do people's comments about how many kids and dogs I have make me wish I could send some of them back?  Um, no.  

"OMG!  That's so many dogs!"  Well, hell, we hadn't considered your opinion when we made the decision to get two new dogs.  Perhaps because it does not affect you in the least or cause you any extra effort or stress.  This is something we've been discussing for well over a year.  It was not a snap decision.  I cannot tell you how many times I had puppy eyes mooning up at me and said, "no.  Not now.  It's not the right time."  

The older dogs are loyal and amazingly patient and protective of the kids.  But they are getting quite old.  They like to sleep and eat and sleep and sleep.  They'll patiently endure Vivian "petting" them, but they really don't much care for romping around the yard with two small boys.  They prefer to lie in the shade in the grass and....you guessed it....sleep.  

Ok, so, why pit bulls?  Because we looked at a lot of large dog breeds, and the pit bull was the breed we came back to over and over again.  They are good with kids, extremely loyal, and look scary as hell (but are big ol' teddy bears).  

Why two?  We got the first one, Judson, when I saw him and said, "yep, that's our dog."  My gut just said he was the right one, and I listen to my gut.  We had him about a week and he had so much playful energy, and the kids go to bed at 8, and the older dogs (as I mentioned) didn't want to romp around and help him run off the energy.  So, after the kids went to bed, Jimmy and I did our best to keep him occupied, but we didn't really feel like we were hitting the mark.  Well, then, the lady who gave us Judson posted a doll house on the same site.  Vivian had to have it.  So, I dispatched Jimmy to retrieve the doll house, and the idea that perhaps Judson should be raised with a sibling was born.  So, now, we also have Jasper - who is just OMG the sweetest dog you have ever met.  The dogs personalities kind of mimic both my sons.  Jimmy and I have talked about it multiple times.  I'm telling you, these dogs were sent down from Heaven just for our family.

Our dogs  play with my kids and make us laugh and are always good for snuggles and are happy to protect us.  I love my dogs.  I love all four of them and wouldn't trade them for the world.  I'm feeding them and bathing them (although admittedly probably not often enough) and (lord help me) clipping their nails and making vet appointments and enrolling them in obedience school (lest you think I'm going to have untrained Pit bulls roaming my home) and potty training and applying flea and tick treatments.  I'm doing what you're supposed to do when you have animals.  Yes, even with three kids and a ridiculous commute and a full time job.

"You've got your hands full there!"  Yep, random guy at the grocery store or preschool drop off or anywhere in public really.  I made lots of children, and I dress them and feed them and work so they have a roof over their heads.  I pray for them and talk to them and push them on swings and work with the 400 people who are in their lives to make sure that we are all a united village raising them to be the best little people they can be.  And while I believe that public assistance is quite necessary and applaud people who use it the way it's intended to be used, I'm blessed enough not to need it.  So, my kids aren't costing you a dime.  So, BACK. OFF.

"Wow, I can't believe you're going to take on school with all you have on your plate!"  Maybe this one is just me being too sensitive.  Maybe people mean something not judgey and snarky when they say this.  But let me tell you how my brain translates it:  "you're spreading yourself too thin and are going to be a less effective employee/wife/mother because you're doing too much."  So, if that is what you mean, kiss my ass.  No, really, I don't feel like mincing words and being polite today.  (I told y'all nothing good comes of Facebook).  So, kiss my ass.

I'm excited to start this new chapter.  Will I have less free time and get less sleep?  Yes.  But it's a temporary sacrifice for the betterment of my family.  I have been thinking about going back to school for years, and nothing ever came together properly.  Now things have come together exactly as I needed them to come together.  I'm grateful for this opportunity and have full confidence that I can juggle this one extra bowling pin thrown into my circus act and do so without harming all of the people in my life who are most important.

So, as I've seen on Pinterest many times: "Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole."  I'm the driver in my life, and I'm going to (white girl) dance to the dance mix of my choice.  Others are free to observe quietly or GO. AWAY.