All about me: The Letter G
This post is brought to you by the letter G ... here's a little peek at me and what makes me ... umm, me. This weekly series is "All About Me: from A to Z." Check out my inaugural post if you want to know more about why I'm doing this!
Grown-up? (Am I a): At point one in life do you be become a grown-up? Or maybe I should ask, at what point in life do you feel grown up? Is it when you buy your first house all on your own? Is it when you get a great job? Is it when you have children? I’ve experienced all those things, but I still don’t really feel like a grown-up. I turn 36 this year. That means with the rounding rules I’m closer to 40 than to 30. That used to seem so old and so grown up to me. And now, not really … I still feel like a kid. I’m still just John and Linda’s daughter. They’re the old people (sorry Dad and Mom).
Grateful: Life hasn’t always been easy for me. Most of the reasons why are things I’m still not ready to share publicly. Things like alcoholism, mental abuse, divorce, miscarriage, single parenthood and depression have all played a major role in my 36 years. But I’m grateful. I’m grateful I wake up each day. I’m grateful I’ve been blessed with the strength to keep going. I’m grateful I have the tenacity to get up and start again no matter what. I’m grateful I’ve passed down these personality traits to my daughter, as I know no matter what she’ll be able to take care of herself. I’m grateful to have a happy, easy going little boy who lights up each room he’s in. I’m grateful I have the chance to experience motherhood and am blessed with the world’s most wonderful babies.
Gift of Gab: I’m a talker. I can pretty my talk to anyone. Some might say I’ve never met a stranger. But truthfully, I talk (a lot) because silence bothers me. I like to fill the silence with chatter, it makes me feel better. I always know when I’m just talking to fill the gap. I tell myself “stop talking.” But I can’t. I just ramble on and on. In my defense, I grew up in a noisy house. I’m used to noise. Noise is like home to me. So it’s just me trying to recreate my noisy childhood. But really, when am I going to learn that not everyone wants to hear me yammer on and on about nothing? My Shelby is a talker too. She gets her gabbiness from me. Sometimes, when she's in a particularly chatty mood, it's makes me a little nuts ... and then I remind myself she's just emulating me. It's not her fault. I gave her the gift of gab.