I am an author. My first book is in publication, and I am fervently working on my second book. It goes without saying that authors have a lot to say. And this author is also a female, so words are always looking for a way of escape. My children are back in school, I have time on my hands, and no one to hear my words, thus, I've created this blog.

I am new to the blogging world, although it has been around for ten years, apparently. Those ten years have been spent birthing and raising children, so it is no surprise to me that blogs and millions of other things exist that I am not aware of. But for today, I'd like talk about those ten years.

I am in my late thirties and have never truly felt "old" before. However, recently I took a part-time job to help bring in some extra funds. I am a server at a local restaurant where I am about twice the age of all of my co-workers and ten years older than all of my bosses. That is such a very bizarre feeling. In my late thirties, I am being treated with kid-gloves and looked at with awe mixed with revere. Why is that? Do I look like a tray of food is way too much for me to handle? Does my back curve? Do I walk with a stoop?

I do lack the energy and stamina that most of my co-workers seem to have, but then again, this body has given birth to four children, I keep my house functioning, I am an author, a cancer survivor, a faithful wife, an active church member, etc. They attend high school. Regardless, we all get along nicely primarily because I am the ancient one.

So, in the end, I hope they get the message that I am working to fill in the gaps for my family. Even if having a thirty-something person working at the local restaurant is weird, it is right. We must roll with the times, even if they are tough. Sixteen or thirty-six. I will gladly (okay, well sometimes not so gladly) put on my apron, face the world of adolescence and do what I can to provide for the needs of those I love.