The Girl Mom with the Flower Tattoo

I got a tattoo when I was 22 years old. Of a tiny pink 5-petal flower. In the (formerly) concave area on my right hip. Easily hidden under even the skimpiest of underwear. What a rebel I was--me with my hidden tattoo!

At the time when I got it, I thought that my right hip was a sexy spot for a tattoo.

Of course, what would become of this tattoo during and after pregnancy was nowhere on my radar screen.

Having a tattoo on my hip felt like a dirty little secret. Like wearing ultra lacy underwear that no one could see but me. (I am laughing HYSTERICALLY as I write this...because it's true that I thought this...and because it's so NOT DIRTY...I was pretty naive at 22!)

Anyhow, after two I-gained-50-pounds-each pregnancies, my tattoo is not as fresh and cute and tight and sexy as it used to be. It's been stretched and distorted, and even though my belly has shrunk back in its own way (IN ITS OWN WAY!), my tattoo has never fully recovered.

And yet, I still love my naive little pseudo-rebel tattoo.

It still feels like a secret. My secret. My former life. The "me" my kids will never know...

Shhh....

My Top 10 Antidepressants

10. The Web (facebook, blogs, etc)
9. Getting laundry done
8. Sex (didn't this used to be #1??)
7. Having a predictable routine
6. Work (see #7)
5. A good cry in therapy!
4. Any live connection to friends
3. Good-night snuggles with my boys
2. Gym Time
1. Sleep

Drowning in Riches

Lately I have been overwhelmed by life. I've had an ongoing sinus headache for TWO (freakin') months--don't worry, I'm seeing my doctor--my psychology practice is really busy, my husband has been traveling for work, and I am still trying to be a (semi) stay-home mom...which means taking care of children, drop-offs and pick-ups, arranging babysitters, grocery shopping (don't EVEN get me started on the f'ing grocery shopping!), and feeding feeding feeding a family of 4. Really, in my attempt to "have it all", I am just overwhelmed.

I talk to my own therapist a lot about this, and her sense is that what I am complaining about could be re-conceptualized as an "abundance of riches." And, you know what? She is right. My life is full of REALLY good stuff (with the exception of the headache...). I have a healthy, happy family, a house, cars that work, money to buy food, and the ability to work part-time and also take care of my kids. So, what the hell am I bitching about? I guess that having this great ABUNDANCE of riches still overwhelms me, since I tend to go into a frenzy of trying to do everything just right. But, I guess I could swap it all for an abundance of crap...and then I'd be really screwed.

Sometimes, re-conceptualizing things is a good idea.