truth is.

the other day my husband told me i was old.

not the wrinkly kind of old (thankfully, i have good genetics in that area) but the old in the mind kinda old.  i didn't like it, but i know he is right.  i feel old.  i feel tired.  i used to have a spark.  i had big dreams and everyday i chased them.

truth is, i am NOT getting any younger.  why can't i find the fire?  my kids should keep me young right?

so, i asked him what exactly he thought would make me young.  he said i should dress like a slut.

he thinks he is funny.

truth is, i have felt it and known it for a long time before he said anything.  it feels like time is slipping and i am wasting.  i am wasting my time with worry and frustration.

my current state of mind is wrapped and tangled in the attempt to get the basics of running a home accomplished.  we mostly have clean clothes.  we mostly have a home-cooked meal on the table.  we mostly have a home that can be tidy'd up in a short time.

but that is so mediocre.  i hate it. i can't stand it.

truth is, i need fabulous.  the fabulous me is getting claustrophobic leg cramps because she has been crammed into a box for so long.  she wants out. sometimes i think i lost the key just because i can't find it.  

if one of the kids loses something, i just tell them to retrace their steps back to the last place they saw it.  it usually works.

truth is, it won't work this time.  you can't turn back time.  i have to find fabulous where i am right now.