As a busy, working and social mom of two young hellions, I am constantly teetering on the balance of completely and utterly (and not fabulously, might I add) losing my sh-word. Man, what a starter. What an intro! Hello, welcome to my blog. My name is Tara, and I’m completely crazy. I use the term “hot mess” way more than socially acceptable; in fact, there are times that I use the phrase, in reference to myself, and I can literally HEAR someone’s thoughts of annoyance in me. But, I digress. But, it’s true! I’m about one bad day away from flipping out hardcore. Part of it is my innate nature to be involved in *everything.* Combine that with my inherent disability to saying “no,” and it’s a recipe for… you guessed it… “hot-mess-ness.” Totally a word I made up and use… a lot. As I look at my planner (that I am obsessed with - who else have to have their lives written down somewhere or else they have NO IDEA what they are supposed to do that day?!), I realize…. “Dang, I am
I never knew motherhood would bring so many tears. Sure, it was assumed (acknowledged as a truth although never fully processed, funny how that seems to happen a lot when it comes to things you’ve heard about parenting) there would be plenty of tears from babies turned toddlers turned threenagers turned basically college graduates. But tears of my own? Never thought of it, really. Indeed, I give both of my children a run for their money in the tear department. Daily, at the absolute minimum, tears of my own well up in my eyes and eventually roll down my cheek a time or two before it’s on to the next thing, and the necessity to dry it up and move along is abundantly clear. And as we are in the absolute throws of threenagerness, an abundance of questioning follows consistently behind my trail of absolute raw emotion. Most of the time, eerily gentle, almost as if she is far older and in tune than her little 3 year old self could possibly be, comes a little whisper, sometimes accomp