Succulent Sexy Living (even with baby spit up on my shirt!)

Succulent Sexy Living (even with baby spit up on my shirt)
By Heather Curlee Novak

We've taken to calling the newest babe "Elizabeth Hurley". Elizabeth is her given name and hurling seems to be her favorite hobby. It can be tricky to feel sexy and feminine as a mama, particularly if you have your own little spit up machine living in your home. And if baby hurl wasn't already pretty spontaneously unappealing...you have to keep feeding said babe, which is what causes it to hurl in the first place!

This morning after feeding Elizabeth Hurley and picking her up to take her back to her crib, she hurled again. Not usually news--but this morning I had on a jolly attempt at sexy jammies; ruffled black jersey cleavage showcasing tank top and matching black ruffled hem pajama pants. Miss Libby's hurl point? My cleavage.

It is as if the children want to obliterate any sexy that might glean dimly from mamahood. If the Hubs and I get a twinkle in our eye, it will be right before the toddler decides to not nap at all that day. If I actually put on makeup and do my hair and dress myself in an outfit not entirely made up of the cotton t-shirt I slept in....the little babe will decorate me with hurl about five minutes before anyone would have seen me properly, yay, fetchingly dressed.

I listened to Hip Tranquil Chick podcast today during my run and they were interviewing SARK. I remember reading one of her books in college, but like most entertaining and succulent diversions of youth I had forgotten her. Listening to the interview gave me more ways to recapture my misplaced joy and sense of fun. I was already tickled with myself because as I listened I was on my way trotting to Starbucks with our travel mugs. I was making a true "coffee run" by getting our mugs filled as part of my three mile run this morning and thought it was all quite funny. I was most excited about her new book "Juicy Pens and Thirsty Paper" about writing.
I plan to look for it at the library this week. Inspiration! Sparkle!

I've been on a mission to recapture my SPARKLE since being re-inspired by Brave Girls Club daily emails. The language they use remind me of my twenty year old self. How encouraging and fun and free I was before growing older, starting a family and settling down. I have a great life and God has blessed me with an amazingly kind and generous loving husband. My kids are darling and healthy and make me laugh (and cry) most days. And still...and still...I don't want to grow old and boring. I don't want to become hemmed in my domesticity. We are too blessed with choices today. There is too much of life to be lived, people to love and inspire and encourage. I never want to forget myself.

And I am sexy! My body has curves and scars that tell a story of childbirth, joyous indulgence in food, a breast cancer scare, and years of life spent well. Sexy as I approach forty years old this Fall doesn't mean the same thing as it did in my thin thighed short skirted twenties. Sexy now is deeper, richer and less vulnerable. I have a larger bag of tricks to pull from in my succulence than I had as a naive and insecure young woman. I choose to be sexy, succulent and sparkly most days, with our baby Elizabeth "Hurley" in my arms or her spit up on my shirt. I can always change clothes now that I have changed my mind.

I would love to hear how YOU maintain your succulence as the years and/or kids add up. What is YOUR secret?

Champagne Playgroup or "Yes, You could fail mightily just GO!"

As I am washing up dishes from our playgroup brunch and tossing the champagne bottle into the recycle bin (YUP! We are that kind of playgroup!) I was thinking about the blogs I have read lately and about my own paltry bloglet efforts. Who. Really. Cares?

I doubt if anyone reads my blog. I have several clever friends who blog and though I adore them I don't often read theirs...why would I imagine anyone would read mine? And then the whole rabbit trail of "What do I have to offer that is better than or even the same caliber as someone else already blogging about it?" and of course, "What sweet arrogance makes me think I have something useful enough to offer that I should blog instead of just sending an email to the three people who might care?" and don't forget..."But my blog is free and ugly and the good blogs are so much prettier than mine!" (And I'm sure their writers are thinner, better, richer, smarter, sweeter and have perfect children too...)

All of this healthy negativity got me thinking: I bet I am not the only one pandering to the Not Good Enough monster. In blogging, our work, our parenting, our writing, our music, our poetry, our daily dressing, our email, our relationships...all of these areas and more offer chances for us to doubt ourselves and critique ourselves against an imaginary audience of thinnerbetterrichersmarterprettiercooler.

Who Cares? WHO CARES "WHO CARES"? If I want to post something to encourage anyone who may happen across it, I will. If you want to share your particular shine with others...just do it, just GO! We might not be very good. We might not be. Maybe no one will read the post. Not a single person. Do it anyway. Offer your shine up anyway. And live your love out loud.