Sleeping Beauty and the Rut of "Justs"

Sometimes I think if I only had more sleep I would be a nicer person. Less moody. More loving. More patient. More willing to do things throughout my day that require more energy than I have. Though I intellectually know that being a mom of two kids requires endless energy, emotionally I feel like it is not enough. What am I doing to contribute to whirled peas? What am I doing to pursue people and relationships? What am I doing to pursue God in a new way, a different way than the "30 minute quiet time"/10 Step Program of the God I grew up with? There are moments when I think I am doing the things that matter, then there are more moments when I am at the grocery store trying to decide which brand of baby food is the best deal, or whether or not I can actually get by going through the express lane. I feel like I have multiple personalities sometimes. The wife/grocery shopper/house cleaner (subpar at this one)/meal maker, etc... and then I am this rock star (does playing the piano count?)/actress (Dan can attest to this--Oscar Award quality!)/runner/poet/dancer/chef/lover... the latter being the more exotic of the roles. So, I am going to stop trying to think of my life right now in the rut of "justs". I am "just" a stay at home mom. I have "just" finished 3 years of college. The list goes on, but I am going to adjust it so my first inclination is to eliminate the "justs". However, if I "just" had 9 -10 hours of sleep per night, I am sure it would be a lot easier.

I am reading a book right now given to me by a dear friend from Minnesota called _Do you think I'm Beautiful_? Some of it is trite, but the core message is solid. Basically, the author thinks that women have to ultimately answer that question throughout their lifetime, and it isn't merely a physical reference to outward looks. She writes a lot about how others treat girls/women that affect how they perceive their physical/emotional beauty...and I am reminded of the time that a boy in junior high brought me a bag of dog food over lunch in a packed cafeteria. In that moment, I sure as hell didn't think I was beautiful, and the wounds from that remained for some time. Braces, a bad haircut, and a really bad sense of fashion didn't help. But, now, 15 years later, I feel like I am finally becoming free from how others have wounded me in that way. The dog food has officially lost its power. Not really because of the book I am reading, but more because I am growing more comfortable in my skin the older I get. Though my skin has 213 stretch marks (true figure and counting), clogged pores and cellulite, my true skin is that of a feisty Italian girl who cares less and less what others think and more and more about what my Creator thinks about what He has made, and is STILL making. So, to Brett Combs, Dogboy, I say "Aarf!"