Watch out bitches.

disclaimer:  The title of this post is not to make threats.  I like how "watch out bitches" feels when it falls off my tongue, with some intimidating edge, in a justkiddingbutnotjustkidding kind of way.  Slightly taboo, even.  

I think I am having my midlife crisis in half the time it should take to reach that milestone in life.  Let's only hope this is the real deal, and nothing more crisis-y happens ever in my life.  This summer has been epically the crapstick summers of all time.  I swear I have Lifetime cameras following me around.  In the beginning of the crapness, I had a "I am getting fucked" mindset, and as time has passed, I am adapting to a "fuck y'all" attitude, and I am all the better that way.  It is a very rare occurrence when this happens, because I am an honest-to-god selfless person, and it is near impossible for me to think in a egocentric way...I have to concentrate to do so.  And right now, I am running with it.  I often choose sides of myself to share around others, and this is NOT because I care what others opinions are of me, but because I want to avoid any potential discomfort to others in situations.  It's like I am skirting the whole religion/politics faux pas all of the time about every single thing.  There is no doubt about it, I am not the most mainstream of thinkers, an idealist more often than not, and I am molting my reservist mentality.  It's quite liberating.  I hope it lasts.  

So, no more will I not eat meat in front of a vegetarian (this is a new one, because I was 80% vegetarian until a week ago), or stay mum on the fact that I co-sleep and breastfeed my 3 year old at the stroller parks.  If my floors need mopped and I don't feel like it, it'll wait another day, because today is more important than the floor.  Fuck a bed time-sleep when you're tired, and play in the damn rain, already.... geez!  The perfect rain boots for six mini feet are at the top of the list,  and the girls will paint whenever they ask, even if that means setting the dinner plates on a paint covered table, because I love paint, love to paint, and love my girls painting.  (This one is pretty much for my husband-he hates all things gloppy and gluey with potential stain factor, and wasn't too pleased that our girls decorated their high chair trays when they were little and I didn't clean immediately-thus resulting in a area of artistic expression at the dining table.)  

With this emergence of self, my everything has changed and been questioned, and will continue, as will what thoughts in my head lead my fingers to hit what keys.  And, there will be more key hitting, as well.  Behold, a renovation of mind, heart, and outlook.

C'est la vie!