The day I gave birth to my son was not the best day of my life. In fact, it turned out to be one of the scariest.

In the past, I have talked on-air about my experience with Post-Natal PTSD. It took me a long time to get comfortable with admitting to and, then, publicizing my struggles. But I realize now the easiest way to spread the word and help others is by sharing my own story.

Today, I'm doing just that on the Star Tribune's CribSheet blog. I'm thrilled they're exploring the topic and spreading the word. You can read it here. If you know any moms (or dads) for whom this information could be helpful, please pass it on.

     Can you imagine having two five year olds and six two year olds all living under your roof? Calgon, take me away!! Last night I caught part of a TLC show called "John & Kate Plus 8." This couple has eight kids under the age of 5!!! During the episode, the couple spent a rare night out together at their favorite restaurant. A relative took the five-year-olds and one woman watched the six toddlers (one screamed so hard she threw up on the carpet) and she successfully put them all to bed. I don't know if I could stand watching the show on a regular basis because I actually felt stressed out after watching it, but somehow they managed to make it work. I guess that's simply what you do when life throws you a curve ball (or 8).

     Tonight I'm thinking about my cousin Jill in Dallas who is preparing to have a baby tomorrow. This, mind you, after adopting one-year-old triplets earlier this year. Jill and her husband tried for several years to get pregnant and, when it seemed obvious the cards were stacked against them, they decided to adopt. They planned on adopting only one child, but then the phone rang this past spring with a request for them to adopt triplet girls. They said yes...and proceeded to buy three of everything. Car seats, high chairs, cribs, you name it. Jill figured she was just super-stressed when she skipped a couple of periods. But - you guessed it - she was actually miraculously pregnant. I got to visit her and meet her adorable girls in August when I was in Dallas for her mom's funeral. What a time to lose your mom, right???

     Despite the chaos and stress and grief, Jill has kept her chin up through it all and only views tomorrow's arrival of their fourth child as a wonderful gift. Somehow they, too, will make it work. They have no other choice and they trust it's all meant to be. Stories like this give me a great reality check whenever I'm feeling stressed about anything from getting my son to school on time to fretting about having another baby this spring. People like Jill and the couple on TV last night remind me that no matter the curve ball you're given - whether it be a whole brood of toddlers, a lost job or a family crisis - "making it work" is a whole lot easier to do when you see the curve balls as blessings vs. burdens.

With Joan Steffend now officially part of our crew, we recently did a new photo shoot for Get Real Girls. I imagine some new pictures will show up on the site soon but, in the meantime, I thought I'd post the next best thing: the Get Real Girls made out of Play-Doh, courtesy of my four-year-old.

Somehow, I managed to keep from laughing when he presented his rendering of Colleen (on the left) and then of Joan (up top). And that's supposedly me on the bottom. My son took pride in the fact Colleen has sparkly, silver eyes and two-toned hair and that Joan has two different colored eyes with orange hair, not "red" like people say it is. I love that he truly sees each of us in these little Play-Doh people and his notion that a little imperfection is nothing to dwell on but, rather, something to embrace. Reminds me not to fret so much when I see a photo of myself with double chins or on a bad hair day.

My son had school pictures a couple of weeks ago (yes, even at preschool) and I was fretting about the fact his hair was sticking up every which way. I tried to wet it down to no avail, and pleaded with him to ask a teacher to fix his hair before picture time - but he looked at me like I was crazy. He couldn't figure out why a little bed head should get anybody worked up. And he was right. We got his pictures back this week; nobody fixed his hair and the photo is perfect. There's a tuft sticking straight up and I adore the picture because it captures his care-free spirit. From school pictures to the Play-Doh portraits, I'm learning that, like him, I need to just see me for me and forget the small stuff - including my green spaghetti hair!

I spent my whole life as a blond until I got pregnant with my son five years ago. Suddenly, my roots changed overnight! The darker shade didn't go away after he was born, and it got annoying trying to cover it up with highlights. So, when he was about a year old, I shocked my family by coming home from the hairdresser with dark brunette hair. That is, right after I went to the MAC counter at Marshall Field's (R.I.P.) because suddenly I realized my makeup was all wrong with the new hair.

It was a bigger change than I expected. I know it sounds crazy, but I truly felt like people treated me differently as a brunette. I felt like I commanded more respect in meetings. People thought I was older, which wasn't necessarily bad in the professional world. I noticed a difference when I made presentations; it actually seemed like the men in the room were paying more attention to what I said than before. And, naturally, people stopped sending me dumb blond joke emails. Quite honestly, people seemed to take me more seriously which, in turn, made me feel the need to act more serious. Maybe that's the root of the old adage "blondes have more fun." It was, quite literally, a head trip and a bit of an identity crisis for me.

I lasted over three years as a brunette. Longer than I originally expected. I enjoyed it while it lasted, but in the end, it just didn't feel like me. I still didn't even recognize myself in pictures. So, this past spring I started gradually lightening my hair. I'm officially back to being a blond (click here for proof). It feels good. It feels like me. My 83-year-old grandma, who is still a platinum blond and always will be, is over the moon about my conversion back to the light side!

If you've never made a drastic change to your hair (cutting it short, getting extensions, trying a new color, etc), I highly recommend it. It's just hair - it grows back and the color can always be changed. It's amazing what you learn about yourself - and others - during a physical transformation like this. It's your head - have fun with it!

My husband used to ask me about the shelf life of the cards I gave him. He was never sure when it was acceptable for him to throw away a birthday card or note from me without hurting my feelings! That's because I love to hang on to cards - I even have some saved from back when I was a kid! There are some from relatives and friends who are no longer with us and it makes me feel good to see their handwriting and read their kind words.

I now have a card basket in our living room. I used to just pull it out during the holidays and keep Christmas cards in it. But then I decided to keep it out all year-round and add any cards to it my family receives during the year...my husband's birthday cards, homemade cards from my son, thank you notes from friends, baby announcements, you name it. At the end of the year, it's fun to go through all the cards and remember special times over the past 12 months. Then I choose a few that were particularly special and I hang on to them...forever! Just an idea I thought I'd pass along...