Quarter Life Crisis?

For the past few months, I have been having urges to make big changes in my life. I almost got impulsive tattoos a few times, seriously contemplated career changes, and tried several new things. After realizing that this is a trend I have been on, I dubbed this my year to have a quarter life crisis.

It’s incredibly common to experience mid life crises and do something drastic like buy a sports car. Hell, my dad did it last year; he randomly went and bought himself a BMW Z4. While the new whip is a fun drive, it affirms the notion that this is not unusual. Hitting that period in your life when you’re an “empty nester,” have worked hard for many years, and are suddenly seeing how short your future may be sounds absolutely terrifying. No wonder we make big changes in our lives at that point! Buying a car certainly is healthier and safer than doing something like going on a drug and alcohol bender to deal with your fears.

Now, I am not mid-life nor forseeing a short future for myself, but I am certainly at a pivotal moment in my life. I am a young professional who is mourning the loss of my early twenties when acting crazy and irresponsible was not only allowed, but expected. Here I am, wishing I had taken advantage of that brief period of my life and done something crazy.

Maybe I should have moved to Paris, lived in a patisserie, and gotten fat like I wanted to three years ago.

Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to my dad when he said “no” and gotten my nose pierced anyway.

Really and truly, I am happy with where I ended up in my life. I certainly did some ridiculous things in my early twenties and managed to keep up with my studies. In fact, looking back, it’s pretty spectacular that I survived the college years at all with some of the dumb decisions I made. Yet, I pulled it together and somehow made it here. A few months shy of 25, in a wonderful relationship, a homeowner, and mother to three fur-babies.

So, why am I still experiencing this urge to do something major?? Sadly, I don’t have an answer and will continue self-reflection until I find some peace with myself. I’ve decided to start a sort of bucket list, 30 Things Before 30, if you will. And I already started!

Here’s #1: Ditch my lifeless brown locks and go for a bold color.



So now I’m a spicy redhead! Making changes feels good- maybe this quarter life crisis isn’t  such a bad thing…

– C


My Mother, My Role-Model

As Mother’s Day fast approaches and it has been another year where I see my mother less and less, I find myself reflecting on all of the wonderful things that encompass being a mother, especially my mother, and how much I miss her.

When I was a child, my mom was the most beautiful, yet terrifying, human being I knew. We were fortunate that she was able to stay home with us girls- all four of us within 5 years of each other. I’m sure she doesn’t think she was the perfect mother and remembers specific moments in raising us that she regrets, but I can’t say one bad thing about my childhood with her. She was playful and fun, but also laid down the law when need be. I grew up when spanking was completely acceptable and am confident that I am better for being whacked on the backside a few times. I even look back at getting my mouth washed out with soap as a learning experience. Today, I’m not sure what I said to earn such a punishment, but I can assure you I never said it again. I can still taste the Dial liquid hand soap as I type. Blech. But really, I was never punished to a severity that was abuse, only to put me in my place and remind me who was boss.meme

As a teenager, of course I thought my mom was too strict. I wanted to stay out later, go out more frequently, basically just be free. I don’t think I really had the balls to do something truly badass, but my mom sure as hell didn’t let me find out. Thanks, mom. Now, I truly appreciate this.

I wish I had understood the value of her coming to every single dance competition, softball game, school event, etc. and showed her more appreciation. She worked insanely hard to remember each and every thing all of us didn’t like to eat and make meals that we all would enjoy. Her personal life and desires took a back seat to being a mom. I don’t think I ever saw her shop for herself until I was about 14. As I grow into adulthood and learn about my mom as a person and not just “mom,” I love and respect her even more.

I look up to the way she raised my sisters and me.

I look up to the way she always starts conversations with strangers.

I look up to the way she spent hours listening to trivial drama, but still was genuinely interested in my life.

I look up to the way she always finds a good deal.

I look up to the way she works hard at everything she tackles.

I look up to the way she is a great friend to all those in her life.

I look up to the way she can be assertive in any situation.

I look up to the way she is patient with everyone.

I look up to the way she demonstrates a selfless love in all her relationships.

I am beyond blessed to have such a wonderful role-model in my life. When I grow up, I want to be just like my mom.

Mom and Me

Mom and Me

– C

My 21st Kiss- A Love Story

To understand the back-story for this one, you should check out my guest blog. I was delighted when a very talented fellow blogger, Daile, asked me to do a guest post for her while she is away and was excited to write a post about dating. Since I’m not on the market any more, I don’t have any current dating quips, but the way I met Ryan is pretty unique. Check out my post, 28 First Kisses, to see where this one begins.


It was a Tuesday night in June, 2011 and I had had a particularly stressful day. I was questioning my pathway in life and seriously contemplating quitting grad school to move to a patisserie in France and get fat on croissants. I’m not kidding- that was actually my plan.  So after class that went until 10:25pm (what jerk scheduled that?!), a few of my classmates and I decided to hit up one of the local bars for dollar beer night.

It was not unusual for us to wear crummy clothes to class and go to dollar beers and commiserate about our classes . So with my ripped jeans and hoodie on, I was in no mood to be pursuing this first kiss contest of mine. That is, until I saw him. For the next hour or so, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was nicknamed sexy man by my friends and we had a grand old time talking about all of the dirty things we wanted to do to him.

Something about him made me terrified to initiate a conversation, so when my friend, E, and I got up to go to the bathroom, I told her to grab his butt. She refused my juvenile request and told me to do it myself since I wanted to talk to him so badly. Obviously, I chickened out. Moments later when we exited the ladies’ room, I could no longer spot him.

Damn, did he leave? I missed my chance with sexy man. I thought. But no, there he was- right in the spot I had just vacated to go to the restroom. Oh crap. No excuses, now. I HAVE to talk to him.

So I strolled on over and spit out the first words that came to mind.

“Excuse me, sir, you stole my seat.”

Whaaaaaatttt?!?! Could I have been any less smooth?? What a horrible introduction.

Luckily, he was a good sport. Sexy man slid over a couple of inches, patted the bench and said there was just enough room for me.


For the next couple of hours we talked non-stop (even though I thought his name was Brian for a time). He kept smiling at me and making my heart melt more. Eventually when he told me he wanted to kiss me, I decided to play coy and say, “I don’t kiss boys in bars.” HAH! What a crock. Sexy man ever so smoothly replied, “Then let’s go outside.” So we did.

After 20 tries, I found the best kiss yet. Three years later I still think so and just can’t get enough of him. Between the first kiss bet and possibly my worst pick-up line ever, we have a pretty unique story. Definitely one to tell the grandbabies 30 years from now!

How did you meet your S.O.?

– C