I don't care any more.

The older I get, the less I care about things.

I don't care that the kitchen is a mess. I don't care that a parcel I was supposed to mail 10 days ago, is still sitting on the table. I don't care that my son put rainbow stickers on my wall, took them off (leaving missing paint blobs) and put them back on again. I don't care that there is laundry in the washer since Monday (it's not wet so it should be ok) or that there is still a basket of clean laundry in my room....and the boys rooms. I don't care that I can't run very fast, and I don't care that there is a giant ass behind me. I don't care that my thighs will never fit into a size 6 or that I may never have abs that you can see. They are there, trust me! I don't care that I can't buy the latest i-phone, or go out for dinner once a week. I don't care that my kid screamed at me today. I don't care about the phone bill or the hydro bill. (But I do find it funny that my husband JUST gave me shit for leaving the lights on.) I don't care that I have to eat more beans instead of steak. I don't care that part of my family may never speak to me again.


It may sound harsh, but I just don't care any more. If I did, I would be missing out on all these amazing things that I really should care about.

Sure my kitchen is a mess, but that just means there were three great meals cooked there today, and my family has full bellies. The parcel will get mailed, no use stressing over something so silly. I cherish the marks on the walls, because they will always be a reminder of the little people...who as it turns out, are turning into big people right before my eyes. The laundry will wait, I am thankful to have so many clothes that it can be stacked into piles. I am grateful for the body I have and I work hard to keep it so amazing. Just because I am not a size 6, does not mean it is not beautiful. I am healthy, I CAN run, and that's all that matters. I care about the time I get to spend this summer as a family. My husband is home more and gets to watch our kids grow up. We get to sleep in on Monday's, take naps on Tuesday's and have meals together, every day of the week. That is worth more to me. I don't care that my kid screamed at me, because with every scream, there is an equally powerful hug. My boys are happy and healthy. They can tell me they love me, and even though some days I want to pull my hair out and scream at the top of my lungs, I am grateful for every peanut butter in the hair, clothes on backwards moment. There will always be bills and groceries will always need to be purchased. I am glad I am able to eat and put food on the table. I believe that family is what you make it. Blood isn't everything. I am so grateful for the family I have built around me. I know that my friends got my back, whether its a late night chocolate bar, a laugh, confirmation that I am doing the right things, to run beside me or just to be there.