moms and cookies

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I am becoming the queen of over-extending myself.  I'm sure a lot of you, especially the women readers out there, can relate to this.  I know for a fact that this is a quality I get from my mother.  She has always been the master of telling everyone yes.

I think back to when we were kids and how much she did.  Every school project.  Every piano lesson.  Every performance, practice, and recital:  she was there.  She never missed a moment.  Always present and excited to be with us.  She successfully juggled three kids and a demanding job without a complaint.  

Now, I know it wasn't all roses.  I remember her being overwhelmed and know that she struggled at times.  Who wouldn't?  The point is, she always seemed to get it done and was pleased to do it.  She managed to have success in the workplace and be an amazing mom, all while being under-appreciated.   Because honestly, who could really fathom the amount of work she was doing besides another woman doing the exact same thing?

I'm starting to feel comfort in the juggling of life.  As much as I get overwhelmed when I have a million things to do, I get pleasure in the fact that this is what is going to make me a good mother someday: making sure things are taken care of, everyone feels okay, learning what is not important, and throwing a lot of fun in the mix.

It reminds me how young I am and how much I still have to learn.  It humbles that part of my brain that thinks it has it all figured out.  It silences that piece of me that gets frustrated with my mom when she cares so much.  The mastering of the juggle is me becoming a woman, hopefully one that is someday half as good as my mom.

In the meantime, Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Laceys.  (By the way, these don't have eggs!)

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What I am facing the truth of is that of me living a long and full life.  I know, I'm presenting this as a negative when I should be thrilled at my chance at life.  It's incredibly hard for me to grasp, however.  I can't begin to express with you my taste for demise.

No lightning bolt or headache has ever gone unnoticed in my adult life.  I look to the miniscule to rob me of my lively hood, my life's work, all in a moment of fleeting misfortune.  I can always see it so clearly: that girl who was here yesterday, laughing and joking like she had no cares in the world, was instantly blind-sighted by a semi when running to the craft store on an afternoon shopping binge.

I was recently informed that I have a long life ahead of me.  No, not by a doctor, but by a self-proclaimed palm reader, whom of which I never paid a cent, but hold complete faith in their wisdom of my destiny.

Fortunately, this means I can relax a little more when stepping out of the shower or hopping on a metro train.  I can convince myself away from self-sabatoge, the rationale behind lazy behavior such as skipping math113 in college.

You see, my sense of impending demise stems from a gut feeling of supernatural.  I believe goosebumps have meaning, a man with suspenders lives in my first apartment, and that the fragility of life is actually completely planned, not fragile at all, but full of meaning and purpose.

I am trying to equate this new insight with maturity.  Embracing life with a little less self-centeredness, faith in the future, and forgiveness of those around me.  After all, it looks like I'm going to be around for a while.  I might as well learn to be okay with it.

stress food

Pin It I'm a total believer that stress can be a good thing.  It can be motivating, energizing, and

public self vs. private self

Pin It I've been thinking a lot about writing lately, particularly the writing that happens here.  It's sometimes difficult for me to decide what I want to share with the world and what I want to keep private.

You see, I can be an open book.  I like that piece of myself.  In a perfect world, I can be exactly who I am and spill my guts about every emotion, every piece of my past, and every one would understand me.  They'd take me for what I am and appreciate my truth.

I can admit my flaws.  I have many, and while I may not exactly love them like I should, I understand that I have to occasionally make mistakes in order to understand how to not do something again.  I may not love my flaws, but I forgive them.  Unfortunately, others might not always be so kind.

I suppose that is the beauty of this blog.  It is raw.  It is mine.  And you don't have to read it if you don't like it.

I wish that I could be as strong as I want to be, as wise as I need to be, and as flawless as no one can ever become, but I can't.

I think this is where my private side comes in.  I gush my life out to everyone and then recoil when I have to pay the price of hearing their opinions.  If I don't expose myself, they cant judge.  But if I never expose myself, how will I ever get to know people?

I should rename this blog juliagrowsup.com or lifelessonsofa20something.com.

taste the rainbow

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There are lots of good things about growing up and few not so good things about growing up.  For starters, you truly start to appreciate things such as roasted brussel sprouts and rainbow quinoa.  You can splurge on the nice pecorino in the cheese department.  You can eat the same thing for three meals straight, eat apple pie as a snack, and wear fuschia lipgloss all day while you're home alone without judgement.  You are the boss.  

Some not so great things include: paying bills, holding your tears back when you talk to your mom on the phone, and the ability to have an entire pie on the kitchen counter with no one else in sight.  Where is your family of five at a time like this?  Good thing you ate those brussel sprouts.  You are forever learning balance.

Balance includes appreciation.  Appreciation for your growth, for your best friends (no matter how far away they may be), and for the seasonal roasted vegetables that get you to the next day.  And roasted garlic and pecans.

And that pecorino... ooooh girl.  I better never become lactose intolerant.  I might have a hard time appreciating that.

Recipe for Roasted Brussel Sprouts and Rainbow Quinoa

blackberry yeast donuts

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First, a little ranting.  Has anyone had a terrible time with recipes from Martha Stewart's website?  I always seem to trust the site with it's alluring pictures and simple ingredient lists.  More often than not, I am played for a fool, ending up with heavy cakes with bland flavor.  Seriously... SERIOUSLY.

Alright, that being said, I got this recipe from this blog and it was fantastic.   Tried and true from a fellow blogger = the way to go, people.  I don't lie.  Perfect and yeasty donuts, which I ever so promptly filled with blackberry jam.  This is what a good day is all about.

Right out of the oven these are the softest pillows of dough you will ever meet in your life.  Then you roll them in melted butter and sugar.  Really?  Yes, really.  Don't judge, just indulge.  You deserve it... unless you work for the Martha Stewart website and then, I might have to re-evaluate your portion.

Recipe for Blackberry Yeast Donuts