Hey! So Glad You're Here.

I didn't mean for any of it to go down the way it did. The road to hell was literally paved with good intentions- and Cheetos. Each year I busted my gluteus maximus seeking peace, and each year that passed was like watching a beloved diamond ring drop into a ditch on the side of life's highway during a gully washer. Storms outside of my control nearly swept away everything I worked for. I thought it was a nightmare. But it wasn't. It was my first 45 years. Thank goodness for chocolate, Cheetos, and children.

Don't get me wrong. Becoming a mother of four kids flips my pancakes, and I'd do it all again just to be their Mama. I love fiercely, support strongly, and give their dreams a wide berth so my fingerprints are nowhere to be found. I believe in raising children to be dreamers who pursue their passions. But after repeatedly diving in to the abyss to reclaim our treasured peace, and nearly being swept away by it all, I came up for air and discovered I was forty-five years old and had likely closed the first of the two acts of my life's story- and I felt like I hadn't even started. 

Yes, I said two acts.

 

I don't believe our lives have three acts. My first husband dying at age 26 made sure of that. He finished his first act at age 13 and didn't know it. We all have two acts to our lives. And if we're lucky, we'll have an encore performance at the tail end before we kick it.  The First Act sets us up and gives us rising action and experience. Our Second Act is where we make our point, and turn our mess into our message. After years of fighting to keep my heart and home in tact in the face of major trauma with difficult people and situations my message is: WE MUST LEARN TO LOVE AGAINST ALL ODDS.

 

In the spirit of living after the manner of happiness, and after having changed my understanding of respecting my own personal boundaries, I am officially opening my Second Act by launching a blog to document and celebrate my life which at this point, with wrinkles, stretch marks, white hair, and perimenopause, is knee-deep in irresistible pulchritude- and I've never felt better in my own mind and skin.

 

Won't you join me in celebrating yours? Here's to our Second Acts. May they be fulfilling, may they be rich with love and laughter, and may my palette mature enough to longer crave Cheetos.