This is me.
I’m supposed to be writing a blog about myself. An introduction blog… I am not really sure where to start. I like pina-coladas, and getting caught in the rain. I’ve run a few marathons, climbed a few mountains, and been privileged enough to spend time in about a dozen countries. I’ve learned to do some insane things I never thought I’d do. I’ve loved big, and cried big. I’ve fallen and gotten back up too many times to count. I plan to use up my whole life, being truly alive, and aware, and in gratitude for the gift of it all. They say ladies don’t ever tell their age, but why?? You tell your age and someone says “Oh gosh I thought you were way older!”? At least then you’d KNOW and could get your ass to a Rite Aid for some wrinkle cream and a box of hair color. Just kidding I don’t buy wrinkle cream at Rite Aid. I buy it on Amazon like regular people, but I digress. Not telling your age is for grandma’s. Which I am not. I’m 45 and mostly loving it, except that I can’t see worth a damn anymore.
I am a mom of two girls (my squirrels) who are my life and I will walk through any amount of fire necessary to ensure they grow up as smart and kind and well rounded as humans should be. They are in to music and reading, and math is not their favorite thing in life. They love swimming, and dogs, and I make them eat vegetables and I speak to them as if they are small adults… and I pray everyday I don’t screw them up too much. Don’t all parents pray that? I set expectations for them and they generally follow what I ask. I am constantly in awe of them, and so excited to watch them grow, and just grateful for the opportunity to be their mama. I have been married 3 years to a very wonderful bald man whom I tease relentlessly about any number of topics, and he puts up with me. I suspect he shall grow tired of my antics at some point and I’ll find myself living in my parents basement wishing I hadn’t been such a smartass. Until then I’ll keep loving him fiercely. I have made many mistakes in my life, choosing Steve was not one of them. His competitiveness and corny jokes and snoring make me a better person. Plus, he needs me or he’d wear ugly shirts and white socks.
People have been telling me my whole life I should write. My folks, friends, teachers, professors, husband(s)… and I’ve always laughed and said ‘someday’. I suppose someday has finally arrived. But here’s the thing: what if I suck at this? It will be a closed chapter and it won’t be my fall back plan anymore. So…. there’s that. Taking the leap of faith to make a living by WRITING??? That’s scarier to me than infertility, divorce, training for a marathon, melanoma, childbirth, dating as a single mom, starting a small company, dealing with droopy boobs, spider veins, and trying to find the marshmallows in a grocery store… COMBINED. Way scarier. It’s by far the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. Ever. Opening all your windows and closets and vulnerabilities to the world and offer to be judged? Have I lost my mind? Yes, a little.
For now… hi there. I’m Beverly. Thanks for stopping by.