Sugar and Spice

So, I'm a year older than last time I posted. Birthdays have always been a time of introspection for me.  I have a natural tendency to get stuck in my own head anyway.  Occasions like birthdays only make it worse. It didn't help that this year I turned 33 on the same weekend as the Inauguration and MLK day. I'm sure you're asking yourself what any of this has to do with...well, anything. Let me start with 33 - or, as my sister-in-law put it in a text to me, "the age of Jesus."  That's right, as depressing as it might seem, I keep dwelling on the fact that I'm now the age that Jesus was when he died.  33.  He died on a cross to save all mankind.  I, on the other hand, was glad my children got out the door this morning without too much unidentifiable crust on their faces. Then there is MLK, who died in his thirties for the cause of all of humanity - peace, equality, love. And then there's the Inauguration.  Now, whether you voted fo...

Who am I? No, really, who am I? I am not asking in an existential, finding myself while growing dreadlocks and sipping chai tea sort of way.   I’m asking in an I looked in the mirror and no longer recognize the tired-yet-wild-eyed mama staring back at me.   And while I don’t recognize her, I also have no idea who used to look back at me. For example, when I was what I remember as bright eyed and bushy tailed, what in the world did I do with myself between the hours of 6 PM and 10 PM?   You childless friends – what do you do after work?   I seriously cannot recall.   I know I said it before when there was just one, but I had no idea that with two it was literally like a three-ring circus once the door opens after work.   It started with just getting ourselves out of the car – two kids, purses, briefcase, toys, bottles, and myself is no easy feat in heels.   Daddy met us at the door for the big girl hand-off after which he promptly started...

It has been three months since my last post, but fear not, I am still here.  As the title of this blog might indicate (for you fans of The Script), I am "Falling to Pieces" a little after having just dropped the girls off for my first full day of work, but I'm here nonetheless.  I am a bit at a loss for where to even begin since so much has happened since my last post.  I could make this post informational and tell you about Pumpkin's finally-detected-yet-still-undiagnosed-autoimmune disorder or how I yanked her out of school after a crazy-crying-mama meltdown in the daycare office during which I adamantly insisted to the director that I was NOT, in fact, crying.  I could tell you all about our tiny, little, 25th percentile Bug with her incredible neck strength, sweet smile, and disdain for formula.  I could tell you about her birth, her first Thanksgiving, her first Christmas or any number of other things.  But instead, I'm going to tell you about yeste...