So often I wish that I was a writer. That words could just flow from my head to paper (or keyboard) with ease. No dread. No agonizing. Just flowing like a river after the winter's thaw. Unfortunately, I did not inherit the gift of prose. I don't know what possessed me to think that by having this blog I would magically become creative with words. That somehow my life might be somewhat intriguing to others and that they would actually look forward to reading something that I actually wrote. I find it somewhat disappointing that many of the things that I once felt I was "good" at are sorely lacking now. I suppose I could contribute this to being busy with 3 small boys but for some reason I just find myself feeling a little bit lost. I suppose that maybe this comes with the territory of being a wife and mother. That sometimes you step back and look at your life and question where the Elizabeth slipped away. I have decided that she slowly needs to come back. Somewhere I need to dig deep into the "something's missing" and find the self-confident, education-seeking, creative, flute-playing, French speaking, musical loving, singer that enjoyed life a bit more. Not that I don't enjoy life, but sometimes I just feel like the "life" is dragging me into a little bit of a lifeless rut. That somehow now I'm condemned to forever being selfless with my time, to the point where I am that makeup-less, scraggly-haired woman with three wild and crazy children in pajama pants that are faded and worn found in those Walmart photos.
Gasp! Please don't let it be! I want to be full of life! I want my kids to see me confident. I want them to remember me as being beautiful. I want to be instyle enough to at least know what Louboutin shoes are on my own and not have to learn about them from my husband while watching a "Breaking Bad" episode. I never thought that I would be in the position where I was getting ready to go out on a much needed date at a "hip" place and not only question my wardrobe but have to scope the internet to find how to perform something as simple as put eyeliner on or apply false eyelashes. I only hope that as my boys get older I won't be a complete embarrasment to them. I won't have a girl to ask the appropriate fashion questions. I now find myself in the "am I too old for that" phase. You know. Not quite twenty-something. Not quite old lady. And really, why does an old lady have to be unfashionable? I don't get why when you qualify for a Mc Donald's senior discount you suddenly have to wear collars up to your neck and have no shape. When I'm 60 I hope Jake can still look at me and think, yeah, I'm glad my wife is attractive. At least to him. Oh, to get all of those years back that I just wanted to grow up! Now I wish I had worn sunscreen and paid more attention to caring for my skin. Oh, to have continued going to the dermatologist and not listened to the words of few. Now I am left with acne scarring that I can never completely rid myself from. C'est la vie, I suppose. But it still leaves a little pang in my heart everytime I look at myself in the mirror. 
Why all of this sudden inner reflection? I'm not completely sure. A combination of things I suppose. My house is a torn apart mess because we are working on redecorating one of our rooms. Of course, there are toys everywhere so that just adds to the madness. And don't even get me started on how dirty it is. It's not just a mess. It's the dirt that gets to me. I always thought of myself as clean, with an organized mess. Now I feel that I've somewhat spiraled out of control and the this frightens me. Elijah going to kindergarten has increased anxieties on my fears of being a bad mom. It is so hard to get out of the house to take him to school on time. I start lunch early. I remind that we have to get going. This soon escalates to a frazzled grab of school supplies and water bottles, snacks and shoes, most often yelling "come on let's go, let's go, we're gonna be late" and "just get your shoes on" or "where's your belt?" and the infamous "WHY AREN'T YOU DRESSED YET!" I don't know how my mom made it look so easy. I used to be on time. Then I had kids. Another thing. Special school things. You would think that they would have things planned out ahead of time. Party dates planned. Special after school things set in advance. No. Not really. Well, at least I don't find out about them until very shortly before. As an example, the PTO is putting on a special fair to raise money with games and Halloween costumes can be worn. It looks like fun. Yeah. We got two weeks notice. For someone who already has submitted their schedule in until December, that's not cool. It just causes this mama more stress. Thankfully, this special occasion we can go to. Hopefully, others we can too. I can't help but wonder when the Christmas (or holiday) program is. Surely they sing songs or do a little dance or something...right? You would think that would be scheduled well in advance. I guess advance notice is overrated.
Another thing that is very hard for me is all of the whining. It's bad. So bad that often I can't even think. I forget words for things...like dishwasher. Or drawer. Everything has been reduced to "that thingy" or object pointing. I have started doing a couple things for myself. I've started reading books again. It's been ages since I've done that. I also started watching a couple TV shows that I really like. Parenthood because, well, that's self explanatory, right? Also, New Girl. I love it. It's funny. I like Jess. I see a teeny, tiny bit of myself, or maybe what I would like to think of myself as being, in her. I like polka dots, that's a start, right?
I know that this post probably sounds a bit negative. I don't really mean it to be. I was actually trying to be a bit reflective. I want to get to a point very soon where I am not so much of a Debbie Downer. I want to begin to show myself as being a loving, creative, fun loving sort of gal. I know she's in there...somewhere.
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