When I was growing up I wasn't cute, or little, or darling or any of those things that endear us to children. I was always tall for my age and chubby and slightly precocious. I never really minded because I was absolutely positive that the universe would even itself out and if I was forced to be a plain looking child than certainly I was destined to be a drop dead gorgeous adult. And I was right. I kid, of course, and it was my first lesson in how the universe cares little about making sure you have a decent amount of good things happen in your life. I sound bitter, but I am not. If I cared about how I looked in that way I would be pretty disappointed in myself. I would like to get healthy and maybe I will. I tell myself to relax about this stressor often. Just be cool.
I did, however, land a handsome, successful and slightly aggravating husband. I was thinner then (weren't we all?). My husband is two years younger by the calendar but a few decades older in maturity. He exercises and reminds me about the merits of choosing to exercise. He's very serious and careful and not the least likely person to smother me in my sleep. I don't know what makes it work, but so far so good. So now, still tall, battling a weight that almost necessitates a second seat on an airplane and a slightly aggressive attitude I often wonder how I maintain our relationship. Maybe it's my exceptional taste in art or my ability to keep turning the conversation back to myself that keeps him around. Who knows? But more about me...
I am pretty seriously insecure. Mostly about my weight and my parenting skills, but also about my writing and my effect, if any, on the children I teach. I wish I had more confidence. But if wishes were fishes...Just be cool.
We have two little girls. They have, to date, monopolized our world in such a way that only tiny, selfish and adorable minions can do. Like, for example, just the other day they were both demanding snacks and drinks from their spots on the couch with out concern for the fact that I was, at that moment, scrolling Facebo...I mean, doing the dishes. To be fair, they are most likely the reason our marriage is working. They make us laugh every single day, even when we feel like crying, and as they demand this or that from their proverbial thrones we are happy to oblige, unless we are watching Netflix.
Just be cool.
Happy Mail to:
27 Wellington Row
Saint John, NB
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Grace and Kate's mom. (Shanell)