February, Tulips, Mustaches







January and February have always been tough months in years past. Partly because they’re so dark and cold. Partly because Christmas is long over and all the sparkly lights are gone. And partly because my birthday is in February. Birthdays always make me take stock of my life. And for a long time, every time I took stock I found myself unbelievably sad.

This year, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing or where I’m headed. But I do know I’m not sad. I know that the light is staying with us just a little bit longer every evening. I know that pink tulips cheer up any dreary day. I know that for the first time in so, so many years, I can look in the mirror and feel okay about myself. I’m not waiting on someone to see me. Or hear me. Or love me.

I see and hear and love myself.

And yeeeeeees.

I realize how intensely corny that is.

Cue the Out of Africa music for crying out loud.

But corny or not, it’s pretty friggin’ awesome.

Also awesome? The Janester.

She came home from daycare on Monday and said *names have been changed to protect the innocent*,”Billy said I’m a boy.”

“Where you pretending to be a boy while you were playing?” I asked.

“NO,” she shook her head emphatically. “I told him I was not a boy, but he said I was. And he said I have a mustache.”

Annnnnndddddd welcome to the “boys suck sometimes” reality of life my dear.

“You are not a boy. And you do not have a mustache,” I assured her.

She nodded, clenching her little fists, “Yes, I am not a boy. AND I DO NOT WANT A MUSTACHE.”

None of us to do, sweet girl. None of us do.




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