36 Years

Sometimes I think it's a good idea to write down lists. Lists of accomplishments, lists of failures... life lists.

I have just entered my 36th year of life. I feel like my life list may be bit lacking but I still feel blessed. What have I accomplished? What am I proud to have completed?

• I have found a profession that I absolutely love and have been lucky enough to continue to find work or rather work find me.
• I am proud to still love my husband, whom I still find attractive and funny (and dorky and smart-assed).
• I'm happy with the way my kids are turning out even if I need to repeat things 8 million times before they hear me and have to pick up granola bar wrappers they've thrown on the floor instead of in the garbage... It's all worth it when they jump on me to give me a hug, tell me they've missed me, or when I hear Addison's little know-it-all voice saying "I love you, mom."
  
• I wish that I could travel more.
• I wish that I could take more pictures, pick up painting again, use the sewing machine proficiently.
• I wish I kept in better contact with friends instead of letting work or family eat up my free time.

I think my greatest accomplishment is that I'm happy with the person I've become – that I don't hate myself – that I can look past the wrinkles, flabby breasts and little spare tire to see that girl who still dreams of what she can do with her life and is so happy to have accomplished what she's done so far. Happy birthday me!

Addison just wandered down to ask me to put her water bottle in her sock. Wacky.