So this beautiful, glorious photo of a sunset on a beach is exactly what I expected this stage of my life to look like.  The only thing missing is me lying on it with a cocktail in my hand, grinning like an idiot. I do have a cocktail in my hand, but I’m not grinning like a giddy idiot.

I’m 43, excuse me, 44 (ever since I turned 30, I can’t remember or, better yet, process how old I am.  In 6 years I’ll be 50. Half a century. Time moves fast. My boys are 6 years old-I remember when they were born-and now here they are-6 years later. Like, poof! Tomorrow they’ll be married with children. And I’ll wonder where the hell the time went. 

 I can’t seem to get it into my head that I’m getting older. That life is not a beach and then you die. Where the hell was I when life happened? I’m a mother and a wife–spoiler alert, that’s about to change but I’m saving that lovely drama for later posts. 

So, I say all to say this-the picture you see is what I yearn for-what I hoped my life would look like if not now at least at some point; sunset and calm, tranquil waters, slow rolling waves–peace. But the way things are looking, it doesn’t seem it’s gonna play out that way for me.  Our saga begins with a broken marriage, an unemployed, bitter, resentful and angry mom, trying to grab just a little bit of the pie-shoot, I’ll take a sliver, it doesn’t have to be the whole damn slice!

I wasn’t supposed to be here-but then, how many of us are? I recognize that  I do not have my shit together.  I’m a 43 (shit, there I go again), I mean 44 year old baby! I’m just starting to figure this life business out. I actually have a plan for once. I think. But at least now I know who I am. You’ll get to know me too and my tastes for the bubbly–and other libations.  It’s nice to meet you friends, and I’m looking forward to your company on this journey.