I have been trying to get this post started for a couple of days now. It is supposed to be about how independent I feel I am becoming. My intentions are to shout out about how the more independent I am, the more I love being married to my husband, having my two amazing kids and actually nurturing a career instead of slaving at a job. My thoughts were to compare my new found self with the extremely hot Jada Pinkett-Smith (seriously, it sounds great in my head).
Unfortunately, by the time I get home from work, help get dinner ready, dishes done, mediate sibling annihilation and curse the slow moving roadrunner connection – I don’t feel very independent anymore.
Everything stops seeming so great in my head.
And I don’t feel much like writing about it.
You see, Jada, by all accounts I’ve read, has got “it” all going on in a five foot tall package enhanced only by six inch stiletto heels. Maybe more, I don’t know but it doesn’t matter. She is one together woman according to the publicity that’s out there about her.
Meanwhile, in my pre-posting, cerebral formulation, the idea was to reiterate to myself through my blog that there will be no more messing around here. I’m done. No more wussing out for me. No more being the whimpering crying baby when I don’t get what I want. Done being the door mat, all grins even if life isn’t okay, roses and daises out my ya-ya, girl.
I have all these cliche plans bursting forth to call ’em like I see ’em, live life to the fullest, stop, drop and create roll, and run naked in the streets! (Okay, not all plans are literal.)
Another cliche comes to mind about plans…
At the end of the day, part of the empowerment of my independence comes from accepting the non-poetic realities of life and loving them just as unconditionally as I love the poetic ones.
And maybe grab some bulls by their horns, just for fun.
(Speaking of unconditional love – check out today’s Two Minute Tuesday Ramble. It’s a little longer than the title suggests, but, hey, it’s my ramble…)