Blog by Yessica Maher, los Angeles Native.

She explores life after marriage, starting a career in her late 30's, relationships, breaking cycles of abuse, online dating, self care, fertility and depression. 

It's all over the place, but so is living. 

My Tiara

I have a tiara.  Let it sink in. 

I was in a silly mood when I bought it. It's cheaply made and entirely frivolous. But I have a tiara. 

There was a whole thought process behind it, but I have a tiara. I was never on any of the royal courts in high school. It wasn't my thing. Leadership Council, yes. Prom Princess, no. But I have a tiara.

The thought was about saddling up and paying bills. If I wear it when balancing my checkbook and paying bills, I can be the Queen that is handling the business of her Kingdom ... Queendom. I'm doing my duties and not getting bent over and robbed at the same time. 

This morning Kid3 was having a melt down. He had one when he went to bed last night and had one in the morning. I stepped outside to discover what happened to half a dozen eggs that disappeared and realized the kids were revolting. I put on that tiara and the extra dose of patience I needed fell softly around my shoulders. 

Queens don't lose their shit. 

I couldn't lose my shit. 

I caught my reflection in a mirror and started giggling. My son started giggling. There were hugs and tickles and silly laughter. And there's a tiara. 

Best $10 I've spent this week. 

The Cigar

Second Chances