There have been many times that I’ve thought I’d stop blogging, but the community–the incredible people I’ve met online and in real life keeps me engaged.

My sisters in Kirtsy (the amazing Amy and Mary and Karey and Betsy and Kyran and oh there are so many more) have over the years turned me on to some rockin’ bloggers and websites that I often get lost in.  Kirsty should be one of your daily stops online.  And don’t just go there for the links, share what you love there too.

Marta Writes is one of my favorite discoveries through Kirtsy.  Marta is a graphic designer and mother who lives in Idaho and sprinkles the world with wonderful on her blog.  As a little Christmas present to myself, I purchased some of her mini diaries that feature easy little prompts to record the happenings in your life (check out her shop here for a number of other neat items).

The real reason I’m talking about Marta’s blog today though is because of the free workshop she is running this week on her blog.

The workshop focuses on how to blog like a pro, tips for success and finding balance in blogging and even how to deal with online jealousy.  I love when incredible bloggers are willing to share their wisdom and the fact that she’s doing it for free?!  Check it out.  The series starts here.

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It’s one thing to get to know fellow bloggers online, but to meet them in person and click with them in real life, well that just makes my day.  The following woman is a fine chica I had the chance to spend time with last month at the Mom 2.0 Summit (go next year if you can!).

Julie Cole is flat out one cool-ass chick!

Talk about a girl I can laugh my ass of with and then discuss important family issues all inside of five minutes.  She’s plain lucky I didn’t stick my tongue in her ear in Houston.  One of the coolest things about Julie is that she is a business owner  (woohoo Mabel’s Labels) who completely gets social media and participates actively herself.  In full disclosure, Julie also gave me a coupon she won for $150 off an item from Cambria Cove because she saw that I had my eye on this fabulous computer bag–see what I mean total awesome-sauce this one–but I’d love her even without the clear attempt at bribery.

Julie & co at Mabel’s Labels don’t give to just friends though, they give to the community too.  They are currently running a contest that results in a winner getting an all-expense paid trip to BlogHer in NYC AND a one-year, paid gig to blog for Mabel’s Labels.  That kind of kindness makes me all warm and giddy inside.

And PS on this one:  Though their labels initially look like they’re mostly for kids, don’t be mistaken.  I have some with my name on them that are the tiny perfect size to stick on all of my camera equipment and they DO NOT come off.

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I don’t want to distract you with too much goodness in one post.  Come back tomorrow for more links to the folks who have inspired me this week.

I didn’t have any issues with 30.  The jokes came.  I laughed at all the “you’re old” cards that were sent my way.  I had a new job, a new husband, a new place to live and a new son.

Thirty was a breeze.

I thought 40 would be the same way, but I flipped the calendar to March yesterday and HOLY CRAP.  It’s like a truck barreling at me.  I’m taking a hard look at my life.  There is much I should be grateful for.

BUT

I thought I’d be in a different place.  I thought I’d have other accomplishments under my belt.  I thought I would have learned more lessons, been more mature, become less sensitive, more self-assured.

Basically, I thought I’d have my shit together by 40.

I know I’m not supposed to compare myself to other people, but it’s hard not to sometimes.  Honestly though, it’s the comparison I make against who I thought I would be that hurts the most.

Maybe it’s being adopted.  Maybe it was growing up in a family that looked different than most at the time.  Maybe it was the strong feminist influence from my beloved aunt.  Could be a dad that picked up and walked away one day.  Whatever it was (and seriously I’ve had enough counseling to have figured this out by now) I feel like I was supposed to excel at something big–something worthwhile.

I feel like I need to prove that I am worthwhile.

Wow.  Those eleven words were really difficult to write.

Well there it is.  I’m going to be mulling that one over for a bit.

Luckily, I still have 28 more days to sort this out.

I’m turning 40 next month.  I want to commemorate the event in some way, yet all of the ideas I have require money I shouldn’t spend and time away from my boys.

Is this a midlife crisis?

There are so many days that I could just pack a backpack and go.  I want to explore and document and learn.  Those are hard things to do when you have a job and a family and a mortgage.  Even just me and my camera and a convertible on a trek across the US, that would work.

I was lucky enough to have the time and resources to backpack through Europe in my early 20’s.  It gave me the bug for travel.  I want to see the world.  I want to capture its colors.  I want to photograph its details–its every day.  How do I make that a career? at 40?  with three kids?

I feel so selfish wishing for freedom.  I know in my heart I wouldn’t give up what I have, but the temptation is mighty powerful some days.

And then there are all of these earthquakes…  Did the Mayans have it right?  Will the world end in 2012?  What would we all be doing if it were?

There is some mad new love going on one row ahead—well one half of the couple is one row ahead the other is five rows forward on the other side and three hours is just too long to go without flirting.  It’s adorable the way he tapped the back of her head and then made googley eyes at her as he walked back to his seat–adorable if it weren’t so disturbing in that holy-shit-I-permanently-broke-my-imagination-by-thinking-about-these-two-mid-50-batty-professor-types-tossing-around-in- the-sheets kind of way.

And it’s not my fault.

My thoughts didn’t go there first.  They were standing in line behind me as we boarded the plane discussing the fact that no she didn’t have a subscription to Playgirl, did he think she did?  (Personally, I think Playgirl is no longer in print and I have no idea where I would have picked up that nugget of information, but you can bet I’m going to Google it as soon as I have wifi).  The minute I heard that sentence come out of her mouth I wanted to call you immediately to tell you about it, but I was standing in line by myself and it would have been really rude to share this funny story while they were still standing right behind me talking about Playgirl in oddly un-hushed tones.  Don’t think I would keep such gold to myself?!

Meanwhile at 35,000 feet somewhere over oh who knows–The South—I am now the friendly dictator of the deserted island I am going to live on with my fellow travelers once we have a safe crash landing.  It will be a tropical island.  I don’t really want to be a dictator per se, I just want them all to listen to what I say and then follow my directions.  I don’t want to be in charge though.

Consider me more your lifestyle liege.

I’m making changes mental notes on each of you as you strut, waddle, scooch and careen like drunken sailors down the aisle, past my seat to the lavatory.  (Why is it a lavatory on the plane?  I remember asking if we could go to “the lav” in elementary school, but by the time we were in middle school I’m pretty sure we were already asking for the “bathroom pass”–must be one of those vessels a-sea/a-air/a-guys make up stupid names for things including their penises for no reason that I can divine things).

Where were we?

Oh right the friendly make-over dictator who wants no responsibilities fantasy.

First I would have everyone pile their luggage together (except mine of course) and I would take inventory.  We’re going to put you in the proper clothes for your color and shape.

Seriously sir, you’d be very handsome if you weren’t sporting such a severe look.  Your jaw line is strong, but you could use a little color up around your face.  Give your leather jacket to the dude next to you who is wearing the black blazer with the grey turtleneck.  He’s far too young for that and despite the fact that a number of 80’s fashions are coming back that turtleneck is bunching up around his cheeks and making him look tubbier than he probably is.

Oh shit!

I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.  Thank god she just stood up.  I caught this flight in Charlotte, NC and we’re headed to Houston, TX.  These facts are only important because THERE IS A WOMAN WEARING SKI PANTS on our flight.  Seriously, swish, swish noise making, bib with the elastic sides snow pants!  I’m afraid none of my “coaching” will help her.

Cute pregnant girl with the awesome pregnant hair just sashayed by.  Adorable.  I’ll help deliver her baby cause you know I’ve had two and watched a lot of ER.  She and the baby can live in my hut with me and she can help me accessorize our fellow castaways.

Preparing to land.  Must turn off all portable electronic devices and restow all items removed during filight (should I tell them Word doesn’t think restow is a word?).

The other day I was went to enter my home phone number into a form and I couldn’t remember it.

The information just wasn’t there.

It was so frightening. I had to ask my 7 year-old our phone number.

A couple of weeks ago, I was driving home with my whole family in the car after a night out with friends. We were talking about another neighborhood and all of the sudden I focused on the road and didn’t know where I was. For a minute, I thought I was in the other neighborhood and couldn’t figure out exactly where in it I was. I shook my head and knew where I was again. It all happened so fast, but it seemed to go on forever.

My heart was pounding. I tried to laugh it off.

Tonight I was talking about The Princess Bride with a friend. I was listing off all of the people in the movie: Peter Falk, Mandy Patankin, the kid from the Wonder Years and…not Robin Williams…his friend…he’s a big Yankees fan…he’s a comic too…”you look mah-velous!”…he’s balding…damn what is his name??

Yeah. Billy Crystal. I couldn’t remember Billy Crystal’s name!

I’m a little freaked out. Is it normal to be forgetting information like this? It’s like I go to the place where it should be in my head and it’s just blank–I may even hear a swift breeze blowing through.

The hypochondriac in me is convinced it’s early onset Alzheimer’s or a clot or some other horrific disease that will make every one feel sorry for me yet not sorry enough that they’ll come and visit me when I’m drooling on myself and muttering something about vibrators. The cynic in me says I’m just a garden-variety, batshit-crazy woman with three kids, a job, a house, a few hobbies, some volutneer commitments and low-blood sugar overreacting.

If it’s Alzheimer’s, remind me to be really pissed.

There are a disturbingly great number of you who are visiting this site for the sole purpose of learning more about Howie Long’s hair.*

Really?!

Of all the things you can Google, THAT is what you want to know? I mean had you already exhausted all of your porn phrases?

You need a life.

I can recommend one way to begin redeeming yourself. Leave a comment below. Tell me a little about yourself. Share a joke. Make me smile. Hell, just say hi and let me know you were here (actually I know you were here–I can see it in my stat counter–but it feels so cheap the way you just sneak in and out without ever turning the light on).

I know. I know. I could be writing more frequently. I’ve lacked inspiration lately, plus I was too busy trying to find out more details for you on the whole Howie Long “hair plugs or not?” story.

He’s not talkin.

*Once…a very long time ago…I questioned whether or not Howie Long had hair plugs after seeing him in a Super Bowl ad. To this day, I get my biggest numbers after Sunday football coverage. You all are weird.

By the way, it’s taking everything I have not to find my way to Haiti to lend a hand. I wrote about my feeling of helplessness on DC Metro Moms today.

Leave it to PFunky to set me straight–and some uplifting words from Laurie to put me on a better track.*

I’ve been pissed off all day. On Twitter I was reading about all the “GREAT” and “FANTASTIC” plans people have for the new year. Everyone was so freaking chipper. Apparently I only follow the uber-achievers whose sole purpose in life is to make me feel like a big gigantic loser by comparison.

Where am I going? What am I going to do next? What have I accomplished so far? What do I have to show for my time on this planet? Why was it again I went away to college? And moved away from home? How the heck am I going to make the changes I really want to make in my life?

Oh yeah, and I’m going to be 40 in 2010.

It wasn’t a pretty day.

Just moments ago, I was reminded that we are putting another decade on the books (I mean I knew this, but I didn’t really THINK about it), and then I started to think about my life 10 years ago.

The roof that is over my head? Didn’t belong to me yet.

The kind people I work for now? Hadn’t met ’em yet.

The three crazy, rambunctious, big-hearted boys who make me want to both pull out all my hair and laugh hysterically every single day? One just went back home to live with his mom and the other two were a vague concept.

I may not be world-famous (yet). I may not be the hottest mommy in town (yet). I may even still have that nasty Diet Coke habit (let’s not get too hasty with our resolutions), but I do have a life I couldn’t conceive of just ten years ago.

Makes me wonder how I’ll look back ten years from now.

*I hope you know how much your words meant to me today–always.

I’m not sure what it is–the letdown after the holidays, looking back at a year, anticipating a new one. Whatever it is it has me in a foul mood and wondering if a good, snot-filled cry would make it better.

While everyone else is excited for a new year and new resolutions, I’m sitting here this morning filled with anxiety and wanting to hide.

Being responsible for your own happiness is overwhelming sometimes. There are so many things I have to pretend not to see or feel that it becomes exhausting–like playing a role eight days a week.

Fake it till you make it?

My stiff neck and nasty zits say otherwise.

As someone whose attention is piqued whenever photography is discussed, I’d heard the name Lensbaby thrown about quite a bit. The company has been good about using social media to market, but I didn’t know quite what to expect.

I asked for one as a lark for Christmas (as I try to decide if I’m going to pull the trigger on my f2.8 24-70mm).

The day after the big day was sunny, so I went outside to play.

I’m not sure yet how I would use the lens in a professional sense, but it’s definitely fun to play with. The accessory kit is a must for the fun aspect of the lens. In addition to a wide angle and telephoto lens and a macro kit, it comes with disks you can design yourself to create different spectral light shapes (star and heart included in kit).

There is some fine print on the Lensbaby site about it not talking to a variety of Nikon cameras (mine included) which made me think twice about using the lens, but don’t be dissuaded. If you shoot in manual, you know all you need to to work with the lens. My biggest concern was that the internal light metering wouldn’t work, but it was just fine.

So in the end, I’m looking forward to experimenting more with my new Lensbaby. Do you have one? What do you like the most about it? What do you use it for (you know, other than taking pictures)?

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This post is not sponsored. I received the lens as a gift from my husband and was in no way compensated for my words. And the fact that I have to write this on my own blog…it’s you a$$holes who will blog for a free coupon who ruined it for the rest of us.

Holy cow!

I had no idea how exhausted my mother must have been during the holidays when I was a kid.

I have my three boys, the husband, my parents and brother in town. Not THAT many people, and I’m bushed.

My mom worked as an ER nurse when I was Santa-believing age. She regularly hosted twice as many people in a smaller house on a much smaller salary and never let us see her crack–not even once.

I am not worthy.

I’m 39 years old and it’s taken me this many years to get all of my presents wrapped before Christmas Eve…to have a dinner prepared the night my parents arrive (what? I take them to restaurants with cloth napkins!).

Mom hasn’t had to cook one thing so far this holiday (sure she just arrived this afternoon), I have all the groceries purchased for meals through Friday (even stuff for lunches) and I’m almost done with my cooking (yeah, so I’ll be up REALLY late).

But I’m kinda proud of myself.

I also can’t see straight let alone carry on a conversation with anyone.

So if you don’t hear from me for a few days, it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. But the torch has been passed and I’m the “mom” of the family now, and pretending to be organized is EXHAUSTING.

Merry Christmas!!!