Summer is almost over. How did this happen? I blinked, and the weeks of hubby at home and getting to sleep in are rapidly approaching their end. I had many goals for this summer. We were going to do activities weekly. My kids were going to have less screen time. We were going to bond as a family. Did we do it? I’m still not quite sure. (Come on. We have a few weeks left. We’ll squeeze it all in, I’m sure.) I have found many, many moments of frustration while I’ve had to grade papers and work on other teacher-y stuff in the midst of my kids playing and Math Man building them a killer clubhouse. I’ll admit it though: I’m happy.

This month’s poetry theme for my blog poetry buddies is, “Admit You’re Happy.” I’ve struggled over the last few years of birthing babies and living through tantrums to find my happy. Yes, I’m gloriously delighted in these precious beings we’ve brought into existence; but at the same time, I’ve discovered that the Lydia I knew and loved was being buried in diapers, sand, and spilled juice.

I have made an effort in the last six months to focus on finding me. To focus on strategies for working with and through any frustrations I’ve encountered. To learn how to handle confrontation and put myself first. After all, even the airplane ride tells us to tend to our own oxygen before helping those next to us. I wasn’t taking care of my own oxygen. I am now.

So, yes, I’m happy. Even gloriously so. I just needed to uncover it.


ok i'm happy image

“Ok, I’m Happy”

A long 12 years.
Babies.
Divorce.
Marriage.
More babies.

I quit my job to
love everyone from home.

Life-long dream
Passion
Changed to a requirement.
One more thing to do.

I lost myself.

Who is this woman staring back at me?

25 more pounds of flesh.
Hair turning grey.
Sagging skin.
Flappy arms.
Who is this?

It’s me.
A new me.
The me I wasn’t expecting.

Somewhere, I thought I was still 21.
(Girlfriend, you aren’t.)

It’s still 1999, right?

I’m gonna party like it is.
At least in my mind
When I belt out
Better than Ezra
Weezer
Eve6

Tell my middle schooler,
“This is what we used to do,”
while she listens intently
and then forgets what I said.

Irrelevant.
Lost.

There’s a funny thing about growing up.
Realizing that you’re a mom.
A wife.
In charge of human existence.

But what about you?
Who is taking care of YOU?

No one.

So, you buck up.
Take a step back.
View this beautiful world and realize:
Ok, I’m happy.

Look at these precious babies.
Stair steps.
Hunky man.

All yours.
Your creation.
More passion here than in
4 walls of a stifled-air classroom.

And it was worth it.


Now go check out the poems by my bloggy friends.

Karen from Baking in a Tornado wrote, “Admit You’re Happy

Dawn from Cognitive Script wrote, “Can I “Admit You’re Happy“”