I’ve slowly been morphing into who I have become. Husband. Marriage. Children. Experiences. So much has happened. To make me, well, me. And yet, I’m still me.
I still say what I want to say, when I want to say it. I STILL have opinions about everything, and have no problems communicating them.
For a time motherhood swallowed me up. For six years I was pregnant, breast feeding or attempting to persuade a young mind that going to the bathroom IN the toilet was better than peeing RIGHT where you are standing.
My friendships were forced. I was friends with women in similar walks of life. It was DAYS of diapers, breast milk and what to throw together for supper. You bond over lack of sleep and an in-ablity to finish a complete load of laundry. Go out on a date? I was lucky to make it through an hour of “Revenge.”
Buuuut, the Littlest turns three
this month and Q and I are celebrating 9 years of marriage. And guess what? We made it out of the trenches. Those terrible years of people nodding in understanding, rubbing your back, telling you “YOU WILL MAKE IT,” but offering no help. Of the church asking you to serve, and with a tear rolling down your face you turn to your husband and whisper, “but I have nothing left to give.”
Instead I am left with time. I have more time. People said I wouldn’t. People said it would get worse. It being “parenting” of course. And in some ways it does; I have a new parenting book from the library. With Gooner turning 8, I’m in for a world of advice.
My brain also has begun working again. I have thoughts. Original thoughts. Rebuttals. I’ve started caring less about what other people think. For some reason I actually LISTENED when people judged me on parenting. I was vulnerable. I drowned my sorrows with food and reality TV. I remember going to a Christmas party and being completely ignored by a woman only to have her tell me days later, “If I’d known you were Q’s wife I’d have introduced myself!” Nothing deflates self worth quite like a woman introducing herself on the merits of your husband. At a different party we did a “speed dating” game wheren’ a stranger introduced herself by saying, “My husband is a client of your husbands.” And let me tell you, Q. is amazing. He’s wonderful, successful and kind.
All this to say I’ve been getting the itch to write. To tell the tales of…life. Of the silly/dumb things people say. Why? Because I like to write! …even if only my Mom reads this. This blog has always been an amazing outlet. A place to chronicle my life. Get feedback. Complain. It will continue. I have never striven to be perfect. I won’t have a blog of perfection. I’m not a perfect wife, parent or friend. I hate this pressure to be perfect, and to have the perfect body that I feel at times. Most times.
Plus I take more pictures when I’m going to blog about it. I KNOW my Mom would like that. I used to take pictures like this because I ate green things and loved it. And blogging kept me accountable to working out and eating healthy. And it was my space; I miss it.