Monday, March 28, 2011

It's a hard knock life.






He's just so stinking cute.








Hi. My name is Amanda Taylor and I am a geriatric self-loather. It's true. It's hard to admit, but it's true. Not so much because of the number of my age but because of the lack of accomplishment I feel. Although, I can't lie, for about 5 years after the age of 17 I cried at every single birthday I had. No, I don't know why. I guess 17 was just a really good year for me. But to that I couldn't even say why - I can't think of anything that happened that year that's of too much significance. I'm just a nutcase. But I do have a point, so stick with me if you feel like going on a self therapy session.

As I was saying, I tend to feel like I haven't accomplished much. Not enough to be an adult anyway. The numbers and the accomplishments aren't adding up. So this week when I did actually feel accomplished at something I was really proud. I've been doing the hospital thing by myself for the past several weeks and in that I've become more independent, more outspoken, more confident. All good things. But it wasn't until I was taking care of my son in a room filled with nurses that it hit me. Rambo was throwing a fit and they handed him over to me to settle him. And I did. I knew what he wanted. Now, I know those nurses would have eventually calmed him down. They are good at what they do. BUT, I wasn't intimidated by them. I wasn't standing there thinking that I was in over my head and it should be one of them here with Rambo getting him settled. What if I couldn't calm him down and looked like a silly fool? That is how my mind would usually work. So, as I'm standing there with him I felt very proud of myself in a way that I never had before.

Yes. I am an adult. I am capable. But I'm also aware that my husband is at home getting homemade lasagna from Ashley. And other people are sitting down out to eat with their entire family. Some people even have time to breathe without having to juggle a million things at once. And I find myself thinking like a 5 year old, "When is it MY turn????" in a really whiney voice. For the first time I actually feel like an adult but find myself thinking like a child.

I've said before it seems the grass is always greener. Maybe with success always come sacrifice. Maybe with every accomplishment there's compromise. Or maybe life is just a circle, vicious at times, that keeps bringing us back to our humble beginnings reminding us that we're only as good as the journey itself. Or maybe I'm just screwed. (You thought I was gonna be all deep and philosophical. You should know better.) I'll take the pride and confidence of age with the innocence and energy of youth. And hopefully my fear of adulthood won't loom over me much longer.

 



I will say that this ------>
makes all the homemade lasagna and dinners out worth missing.








I leave you with these words of inspiration: "Ain't about how fast you get there. Ain't about what's waiting on the other side. It's the climb." - Miley Cyrus
She's gonna be famous one day.

Goodnight, America.

2 comments:

  1. You have so much to be proud of! <3

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  2. I can't tell you how glad I am that I'm your example of childish indulgence. :) I love you hon. When I count my accomplishments as a man, the only one that matters is having married you.

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