Think of me like this… I’m you and you’re me.
It’s really that simple. I just live in a different house in a different town in a different state with a different husband and different kids than you, that’s all. Otherwise, we’re like twins.
Because, like you, I’ve got kids. I work. I’ve got stress. I food shop constantly (like I’m there every damn day). I’ve got a Tide-to-Go stick in my bag 24/7. I cook and clean and pick up after literally everyone I live with. I always need a nap but rarely take one. I love my kids (in spite of how annoying they are). I love my hubs. I love my dog. (God, I love my dog.) I wish I had more money (college is ridiculously expensive). I adore my family. I love my foxhole friends.
Sometimes I feel scared. Sometimes I feel annoyed. Sometimes I cry. I cut coupons (when I remember). I sing really, really loud to gangsta rap when no one else is in the car. I hide a “secret” twenty-dollar bill in my wallet that my kids always find (damn kids). I go to the gym at nine o’clock at night just to fit it in. I fertilize my plants every Sunday like it’s a religion. I kiss and hug my grown-up kids waaay more than they’d like. And I’d rather be with my family than anyone else. No contest.
What do I write about? Uh, everything—the challenge of raising kids, the stress of being a wife or a mom or a dad or a husband, the pressure of finding and keeping a job. I write about all of it. I write about the stuff that’s on my mind, which, ironically, is the same stuff that’s probably on yours.
Mostly, though, I try really hard to keep all my balls in the air every day, but occasionally a rogue one cracks me right on the forehead. Proof that even though we’re all trying really, really hard to get it right all the time, we just can’t. And we won’t. So we need to stop stressing over it and realize that our best is just going to have to do. Because that’s actually where true happiness comes from.
So see, we’re like the same person. Which is exactly why you’ll be able to relate with a lot of what I write about. Because that’s what you’ll get when you read my opinion column or my books or hear me speak. You’ll get funny (hopefully poignant) little nuggets of truth (and hopefully a little inspiration) that you can jam in that little unusable square front pocket in your jeans and pull out later, when you need a kick in the ass.