I'm making this year my bitch

Something in my brain is inalterably broken.

Not in the usual way that makes me swear like a sailor or that causes me to fantasize about completely inappropriate childcare methods. That's a common side effect from triplets, after all.

No, this is something different.

It became clear to me what happened when I spoke to some friends last night. I found out a mutual acquaintance became pregnant partly to avoid going back to work full-time since her child was approaching school age. In her mind, it was either be a mom or be an employee. I felt incredibly sad for her.

I never wanted motherhood to define me, but when you have triplets or even one child, it's easy to fall into that trap.

I went through the last four or five years trying to be the perfect wife, the perfect mommy.

I posted what I said yesterday because I knew this post was coming. I'm not one to look back and regret... well, most of the time. But things have changed. We are done having children. Sorry mom, we are done, finito, finished, no more kids. Clip those tubes or solder 'em shut.

My priorities have changed.

There's nothing wrong with being thrifty, but do you know that I bought - on average - one pair of jeans and two shirts for myself each year. That is unacceptable. Until two weeks ago, I actually hesitated to throw away a pair of jeans that had holes in the crotch, simply because they had cost me $80.

Holes.

In the crotch.

Where, exactly, had I intended to wear them? The strip club???

I realized that I have completely neglected myself, not only in aspects of my appearance but my personality. In fact, my blog is the only place that I've been able to let that side of me out. No wonder why I enjoy it so much.

The neglect has to end. No more. NO MORE. I feel wonderful. And I think Mike is more than a little optimistic with the return of the old me.

I must give some credit to my cousins in Milwaukee and their friends for showing me a great time two weeks ago. While it made the next week horrible after coming home and not being able to assimilate into my life once more, I appreciate them and whatever they did to wake me up. It was like life rehab.

I am myself again - the one I picture in my mind.

I am a little rowdy.

I am a little punk rock.

I am a little sexy.

Dark.

Kind.

Smart.

Opinionated.

Sarcastic.

Goofy.

Courteous.

Tomboyish.

Wild.

I have put off things for years because of being a mom. What exactly does being a mom have to do with it?

I can still be a good mom with straight, dark chocolate hair (and maybe a few pink highlights, heehee).

I can still be a good mom with another tattoo or tiny diamond stud in my nose - something I've wanted since designing one six years ago for a client.

I can still be a good mom while worrying a little about my clothing and hair. Hello? Did you know that Big Sexy Hair hairspray is big sexy awesome? [Somewhere, my sister is smiling.]

I like high heels. So shoot me. I like expensive underwear. Does that make me a bad mommy? NO.

I like to go out and have a few margaritas with friends and not talk about my kids once all night. Dads do it, why can't moms?

So while this all seems quite aggressive, I have always been this person.

Just ask my mom about the year I wore Vans skater shoes every day and owned only gray, black or white shirts. I spent the entire summer on the basketball court with the guys playing ball and listening to music. All that's changed is that I grew some boobs and figured out how to walk in high heels... sometimes.

Welcome back, me! Can't wait to get started.

In honor of the year of me, we are also packing our summer full of adventures. Lots of camping, big city trips, stuff like that. Maybe even a trip out west at the end of summer.

Of course, this means I've gotta get going with my jewelry business and make some dough to afford all these new exciting things. After all I'm no freeloader... hahaha.

I'm making this year my bitch, and she's gonna love every second of it.