Meet the Queen...

I can write about anything and it just flows. Until now. Talking about myself is not my forte. But its a necessary evil. Kind of like child birth. Painful, but the kind of pain you remember forever and still need drugs to numb forget. I think I hate it so much because it reminds me of just how old and boring mature I've gotten over the years. Everyone misses the fun of their youth. Occasionally with the help of Captain Morgans I relive it.

I'm a 30 something woman who resides in a typical small town in the midwest. I'm the mom to an amazing, yet volatile, preteen girl. I have a part chihuahua part bitch yorkie. Needless to say, I have more gray hair than I'd like. Which WILL be eliminated soon. My hair is generally in a ponytail. And my clothing hasn't been updated in years. We just recently became homeowners of a quaint little fixer upper mobile home. I'm just now rediscovering friendships that don't revolve around children, hobbies that don't revolve around children, and looking like something other than what the dog left in the yard before she dashed back inside.

I cuss more than I should. I enjoy a drink not nearly often enough on occasion. I have my own multiple personalities that occasionally visit several times a day. I'm bluntly honest with my daughter but have to remind her that some things we don't share at school. And I absolutely hate stupid people. Yet they seem to find me at every corner.

To wrap up an accurate description of me, I'm going to show my roots. And no not the gray ones. I mean the southern ones. These two sayings accurately describe me at this point in my life:

1. If mama ain't happy, nobody's happy

2. I'm much too young to feel this damn old

Going gray is not an option...

When I was a girl, I dreamed of when I was an adult. I was going to have 4 kids, a rich happy husband, a house with a white picket fence and I was going to bake cookies every day after school.

Instead I had one little girl with 12 personalities and a dog. My house turned into a mobile home with a covered front porch and anyone who has tasted my cookies knows that is a goal better left unaccomplished.

It didn't matter. I devoted my life to that little girl. I spent all my time with her and her friends. I became her Girl Scout leader. I volunteered at school all the time. We always had multiple children at our house. I learned how to bead hair and that I suck at Scene It- Disney Channel version. She was proud to tell the whole world I was her best friend.

Then one day my sweet little sunshine was replaced by an alien. She became...a PRETEEN. Not only do they not need me as much at school, she prefers I skip it altogether. We still have children around but they no longer want me to bead their hair and lose at games. They prefer makeovers and singing sans parent. While deep down I may still be her best friend, in public I'm her aunt.

I woke up one day and realized that I had built my life around this child and I no longer had much of an identity. If I'm not *Brat's mom, then who am I? What are my hobbies? What do I do for me? What would I LIKE to do for me? And most importantly, where the hell did all this gray hair come from??

So that's where we are today folks. I am starting on a journey. I am going from being Mom, to being ME. The fun part will be finding out who that is.

So what is this blog? This is my journey. You will see me explore changing my hair, my style, my life. You will join me as I explore hobbies and home remodeling. You will probably hear those awful stories about how annoying everyone else is. Hopefully you will find humor. And hopefully you will find inspiration to start your own journey. Whether your kids went to school, to that alien planet of teenage years or to college....we can share in the misery together. First stop-- HAIR DYE.

*Brat is not meant offensive....It's a term of endearment. Real names are not used to protect the crazy innocent.