Sometimes it is so damn hard to be me. Seriously.

Good god, sometimes being a female is entirely too much work. Why, after 38+ years of this am I not catching on, I just don’t know. But it continues to get me time and again. Today I woke up all in a bind because I actually had to move my ass in order to get things accomplished so that I can go out of town tomorrow, that was enough in itself. But add to that some good ole PMS and being me was just a bit much. Of course it took me a few hours to grasp the PMS aspect because I am clever that way, before that I seriously wondered if perhaps I was going insane or if my Inner Bitch had hatched a coup and completely taken over the show. It felt like my skin was several sizes too small and that if any of my children merely touched me I would jump out of my wrapping and claw my way out of the house. I could go on and on about how I fantasized of selling my children and buying a ticket to Vegas to pursue my long dormant dreams of becoming a showgirl, but I’ll give it a rest. Instead I’ll go with the glass half full approach and focus on the good, a tactic I tried today in McDonald’s when Devon loudly refused to eat his Happy Meal -of course, why would I think it would be any different- and then took the toy up to the cashier for a trade in because it wasn’t the Man-Fish toy he had envisioned. Yes, right there and then I wanted to shed my cumbersome skin and slither away from all that was mine. But instead I took the high road, looked at my angel and thought of all the reasons I wanted to stay and listen to him number off the reasons he absolutely could NOT manage to chew a single morsel of chicken nugget. Following are a few of the reasons I adore my three:

1. I love the way when I nuzzle Devon’s neck he scrunches up his shoulders and erupts in to fits of giggles, taking my face with him as we collapse in a pile on the floor. He never seems to tire of it and I find it endlessly endearing.

2. I love the way Loren bends his large self over and rests his now taller head on my shoulder. I am continually in awe of the fact that this 5’10″ being was once my tiny cuddly boy.

3. I love Cassidy’s sense of humor. It is wicked, fast and beyond clever. Sometimes she says the sassiest things and I can imagine the brilliant woman she will one day become. I look forward to knowing that woman.

4. I love it that Devon requires my presence in his car bed every morning before he is able to rise and greet the day. I snuggle up to him and he tells me of his dreams and that I am his favorite. It never fails to give me courage to face the day.

5. I love it that Loren requires the same routine to begin his days, only he has a large futon and not a giant, red plastic car bed. And I suspect now that he is nearing 16 he censors his dreams for my benefit. At least I hope so.

6. I love it that Cass greets the mornings snarling and kicking ass. She scares me, but to watch her unfurl and begin her day is inspiring, like a predator preparing for a kill.

7. I love to hear Devon’s stubby foot falls running through the house. He is forever in motion and his energy is contagious.

8. I love to watch Loren as he jumps on the tramp of constructs jumps in the snow for his ski tricks. His devotion to physical play is admirable.

9. I love to see Cass’ profile as she curls up in a chair and reads one of her books. She has so much pent up energy and yet she will sit for hours and read, a slight frown between her brows as she chews on her thumbnail.

10. I love it most when I fall asleep at night and know my three children are tucked safely in their beds. It is a security and satisfaction unlike anything else I know. I picture them in their beds so full of life and everything beautiful that they are right now. And then I feel complete.