|Her favorite part of her birthday.|
We celebrated birthday number three with a weekend full of adult and kid fun.
She had a joint birthday party with a friend two weeks ago so we could spend her real birthday weekend doing just what she wanted to do.
- A visit from her aunt
- Breakfast tacos
- A brewery tour
- Dinner at Salt Lick
- A new train set
- A too-big-for-now Big Wheel
- Biscuits and Groovy
- Bouncing at a bounce house at a church kids' fest around the corner
- Chuck E Cheese
- A nice long nap
- Dinner at her favorite place, Phil's, only to discover that their famed playscape was closed. Luckily, Waterloo Ice House was a nice backup plan
- Having all of her grandparents sing "Happy Birthday" via FaceTime while she blew out her candles
- Wishing for a hug from her mommy and daddy
I could sit here and reflect on how the last three years of parenthood have changed me but I feel like that would be wasted space. I've done plenty of self-reflection lately and it hasn't been pretty.
I like to think that like my daughter has moved from toddler to preschooler with all of the grace and dignity of a baby triceratops, I've moved from somewhat-self-assured career woman to a work-from-home writer who barely changes out of her yoga pants.
When I decided to take this opportunity write a ton and to find my voice, I though it would have been easier. I would have written a post that got picked up by a national syndicate and gone viral. Legions of adoring fans, advertisers begging for endorsements and a book deal would have been quick to follow.
I put a lot of pressure on myself.
I have one chapter done in a proposed parenting book that I just can't seem to push out as quickly as I like.
I struggle with motivation because I feel like a failure.
I feel like a failure because I have yet to be paid for a writing job.
I have some prospects that I'm really excited about. But until I see a check, I will still feel anxiety every time I tell Dr. T that I need to take more money out of savings to pay for groceries.
I feel like I disappointed him by leaving a steady job.
Yet, I still write. Because there are people out there who have the same insecurities I do and I want them to know that they're not alone. It's ok to feel guilty and to be anxious about money and to not always be on top of everything.
It's what makes us human.
I feel better about myself when I write and when I look at my blogger stats and see that if only ten people read it, then that's ten people who cared enough to give me a click.
So yes, the last three years have definitely changed me. I've said many times that being a parent has made me a better person. But it's also made me a better writer and able to find my voice.
As you can see, that voice sometimes rambles so far beyond her original point that you can't help but wonder if she's off her meds again...