Gumby

My roots are showing a strange color I haven't seen since middle school. I have what I call a "laundry couch" because it has never NOT had laundry on it waiting to be folded. Don't pre-judge, I do put make-up on...sometimes. Thanks to the Crock Pot, my kids get a home cooked meal 4 nights a week. Rainey will be skipping cheer practice tonight, because she just needs a bath and we won't be home the rest of the week. I have decided that none of this bothers me. I decided that this morning on the way to the office, actually.

Typically, I stress over my inability to make all of my ducks line up and quack in perfect harmonious unison. It has been a LONG time since all of my ducks have even shown up for roll call. Driving my "bus" in this morning, I was a little embarrassed over my naked face this morning and wished I put the effort in that I did 10 years ago. When I stop to compare the group of women who have it all together, clean houses, perfectly groomed face, hair, kids, etc and the group of women who stretch themselves to the brink of collapsing every day with foster kids, Dane rescue, ministry, teaching, I clearly see the group I want to be associated with. My brownish roots are battle scars of an intense life.

I Tweeted this last week, "I hope I stretch myself and my talents so far that I look like Gumby when I finally slow down long enough to be stuffed in a coffin."