Oh, internet, I just had the best of weekends.

I had three of the fab five,

so my weekend was full of all things pink…

and blue, too!

That’s right — earlier today (Sunday),

we celebrated Juliana’s fourth birthday

with a cookie monster party in my house!

I’ll have full party details soon,

after I sort through the pictures

and the pile of dishes sitting in my sink.

– — –

But now, it is late on Sunday night

and I’m listening to four of the fab five

– Angelina, Aviean, Juliana and Olivia –

asleep in the bedroom next to me.

I’m taking the couch tonight,

because there is a three in four chance

that, at some point tonight, one of them will wake up crying.

Anytime I have at least three of the girls,

we don’t make it through the night without someone crying.

This is usually fixed with a little bit of rocking back and forth

on the edge of the bed and sometimes a little lullaby singing.

– — –

Tonight I’m wishing I wrote an anonymous blog

because I’d really like to tell you about

going to have coffee with someone tonight.

Okay, he had coffee, I had an apple juice box, whatever,

I think you get the point.  Coffee. Except with apple juice.

We sat there and talked for two hours,

and could have talked for two more

but I had to go and retrieve four of the fab five.

Things that don’t, you know, typically happen in my life:

trying to figure out childcare arrangements

for children that aren’t mine

so I can go have coffee apple juice with a boy.

It was, without a doubt,

one of the most enjoyable conversations I can remember.

Sometimes, you just want to talk to a boy, you know?

Sometimes you just want to feel like a normal girl for a couple of hours.

I rarely feel like a normal girl when it comes to boys,

mainly because of being overweight.

Men are visual creatures, from what I can tell.

I don’t think it’s bad; I think it’s how God designed them.

But most men can’t see past my weight,

and so the rest of me feels invisible a lot of times.

Sometimes, when I think about me and love,

I wish I could be on one of those shows where I’m behind a curtain.

Except, in my version of this daydream, I’m behind the curtain

for as long as it takes for him to fall in love with me.

I may be wrong, genuinely, I may be wrong

but I like to think that, if someone would just look past what they see

when they first see me, maybe they could love me.

I always wish I could sit across from them, look them in the eyes

and softly say

“please don’t forget that beauty fades.”

I don’t want to be loved because of my appearance,

because that is one of the quickest things to change.

Beauty fades, day by day.

No, I want to be sitting on the front porch,

rocking back and forth,

grandchildren playing in the front yard

when he says “You still in this, Amy Beth?”

I want to look back at him and, without missing a beat, give him my answer.

“Oh, you better believe we’re still in this.”