California girls

I don't write much lately. Frankly, I haven't even thought much lately. I'm too tired.
Every day is a litany of the predictable things...A child wakes in the night, gets tucked back in, stumble back to couch, alarm goes off, hit snooze, hit snooze, hit snooze, chaos, school, errands, pick up Willow, grab a snack, drop off at childcare, running late, uniform's wrinkled again, punch in, time blurs/drags/flies(depends on the day),punch out, head for home, inevitable detour, pack the next day's lunch, wait for the day's rattle to stop in my head, sleep...a child wakes in the night, repeat..

But I swear, every day the predictable is punctuated by irreplaceable moments, and I swear I intend to write them down at the end of the day. Thing is, the end of the day comes and all that's in my head is the dust trail behind those moments, because they're long gone.

I know what I want to do with my life. I have a plan. There's just so much standing in the way. In one year, we'll be living in LA. Under a roof, with a car that runs. I'll be auditing classes and finding my way into school at Playhouse West. Willow and Ginger will be in a great Montessori school, and we'll be a part of the Mosaic community. And I will fight whatever obstacles lie in the way of my lifelong education and exploration.

I know most people in my life don't believe this(moving to LA, pursuing acting) can or should happen. People who love us and whose opinions I have tremendous respect for. I've got their voices in my head; I hear their concerns loud and clear.

I have to go do it anyway. I think it would be sad to go through my life not knowing what it feels like to fully commit to the thing you love doing. The One Thing. I think it would be tragic to know what your One Thing is, and settle for anything else.

And I want more than anything to help my daughters find their way in this world. To discover whatever their One Thing might end up being. I want them to know that the world is huge and nothing is off-limits to them as they consider their futures. By throwing myself into a seemingly impossible dream, they will hopefully learn that they can do the same.

When I feel the vacuum of Perpetually Exhausted Mom-Lady beckoning, all I have to do is remind myself that Willow and Ginger are watching me for an answer to a question they don't even know they're asking yet. I hope the answer I deliver over the years to come is, "Yes, Love. Keep going. You *can* do it. "