So I try. Everyday when I wake up I think, today is going to be better than yesterday. I am going to be positive. I am going to be joyful. I will be a great wife, role model and friend. I will be the Mom that I am called to be. And then. It happens.

It could be anything. Anything that sends me off course. If you have read my blog before, you know chaos is our normal and so we all adjust. Somedays I just am not that into adjusting.

It’s been an adventure packed couple of weeks for Team Csordas, nothing short of epic in the way of glitter bombs, so I thought it was about time I shared some of these sparkling gems with you.

“I don’t dream. At least if I do, I don’t ever recall the dreams once I wake up.” I said this to a friend who was rattling off one random dream after the next, vivid dreams complete with smells and color and sound. While it is true that I don’t normally dream, I do have two dream memories stored…

“We’re friends.”

Often times I have said it myself, without much hesitation, and I believed it strongly to be true. A name comes up in conversation and the replies often include, “Oh, yeah, I know her. We’re friends,” or “She’s a good friend of mine.” Quick to pledge alliance or association, eager for that connection. To belong. The funny thing about friendships is their life cycle. They are born, evolve and grow, all the while wondering when and if we will mourn their passing, when they just don’t fit anymore.

We had been waiting for over an hour in the reception area. My pregnant belly feeling so heavy topped with the wait of my toddler, straddling the bump. The double stroller at my feet with two cranky little people strapped in, the floor around us littered with cracker crumbs and Gerber puffs. I thought about cleaning it up but couldn’t bend over enough to do so. I was the poster woman for the stereotype of WV, barefoot (flip flops in January was close enough) and pregnant, babies were literally everywhere, inside and out. It was me against this tiny gang and my patience, as well as the snack supply, was dwindling.

Things have been a little more chaotic than usual around here over the last couple of months. Today marks day thirty of my job as”Nanny Nenny.” Let me explain.

There is a certain amount of strength that comes from being alone. The decisions are that effect the well-being of your children, your family, are solely up to you. The future lies in the aftermath of your choices and you see them as cataract eyes see fireworks in car headlights at night. Everything is too bright. You blink and squint, but it’s all just so fuzzy.

Oh yeah. I am going there. And I am going there hard. It is one of those days when you need to laugh or you’ll be a sobbing mess on the floor, the I’m over it, #stickaforkinmecauseimdone days. It’s a throw your hands in the air and wave ’em like you just don’t care, kind of day. Because sometimes it is in the caring too much that we produce more and more clusters forks.

Simple enough of a concept. We say three little words all the time. I love you. I love cupcakes. I love him/her/it/this/that. I love football. The problem isn’t finding things to love. In fact, when we grow tired of that thing we spoke so hastily about loving, we replace it. We proclaim it across social media, we take photos of it, we hashtag the love right out of it. We want so badly for it to be a part of us and in turn create our identity. Sometimes the proclamation of loving those people, things, places, objects allows an escape from ourselves. When we escape the loving of ourselves, we lose out on the act of loving others. It is not in words that we love, while they are lovely, it is our behavior that defines the loving. Our actions show who we believe we are.