Be Me

So, it's been a while.
Sigh. No explanations here except, well, life and vacations and what not.

Life. Man does it get in the way of writing.

So, we just came back from what I'm hilariously calling The Great Grandmother Tour...because, well, it was pointless for me & Mr. Husband to be there (beyond chaperoning, of course) because it wasn't about us. At all. It was about the child.
We, we are merely bodyguards who have to accompany the child everywhere.
Hilarious, in my opinion.

So, writing? Not so much.
Living? A whole bunch of it, but my living is further enriched when I'm able to get some writing in. And lately-there has been none of the latter, but tons of the former...as you could tell by this blog.

So, onto another mid-year resolution that I can hopefully get accomplished by 2012.

Now to abrupty change gears (the sign of excellent writing, FYI), the one thing I have been sort of thinking about on our trip, and just lately in general, is being me.

And how incredibly hard that is.

During our visits, I was in awe of how unlike my family I am; and how just wonderful and perfect some of them are...perfectly turned out houses, kept up houses, sparkling clean; compassionate and kind people; organized, funny...the list goes on and on.

Though I do have to say that the 'organized and well kept house' is the one that I am fluxomed by; I am so jealous of people that can do that.

Me? Not so much. Don't know if it's just not one of my gifts, or if I haven't practiced enough, but I know at this stage in my life, this area still needs ALOT of help.

So, of course, when I am with these sort of people in these sort of houses, I am immediately off put and relaxed (how lovely! why isn't my house like this?) and then in that weird, middle-schooly emotional place where I wonder about my worth and am instantly worried that I, like Linus, am leaving a trail of dust and dirt behind me wherever I go.

Some days it feels like I got the wrong chip inserted- I received 'verbal diraherra' instead of 'knows how to keep house' and I'm just wondering around, muttering to myself, trying to figure out how to work a broom.

So, jealously. It strikes so suddenly, and lately, it seems often.

And that's when I have to tell myself (612 times a day, if necessary), 'be me'.

I can't be anyone else but me.
I'd love to be cooler (and thinner! And wittier! And also, would like to host dinner parties with ease), but I'm not. I'm just me.

And all I can be, is the best me.

And that's ok.

Even if it takes me 613 times to remember this.