I have a friend who started a blog. And I’ll admit that my first thought was one of jealousy. I love to write. If you asked me as a little girl what I wanted to be when I grew up it was a writer (instead I went to medical school but that is another story for another time). I’m writing constantly in my head. But I am afraid to start. I’m afraid of what I would write. Would anyone read it? What would people think? Or say? And who in the world cares about what I have to say anyway?
My friend’s blog is beautiful. I like how she set it up and her pictures are amazing. When you scroll down her About Me is a charming family photo…gorgeous woman, attractive husband, three perfect kids…all light and airy and pink and blown out. She’s going to write about mom stuff. Recipes. Skin care. When I read it I wish I was just like her!
But this is what scares me about writing. Or at least sharing my writing with the world. I have sometimes been unsure of who I am. In high school I was soccer player, cheerleader, smart girl, member of student council, girlfriend of a jock. But I lived in a constant state of worry that people would figure me out. People might figure out that I had no idea what I was doing. I was a fraud. I tried to be a little of everything to fit in everywhere and in reality felt I didn’t belong in any of it!
Today I work every day to just be WHO I AM. Content WHERE I AM. I’m trying to live a simple, God-focused, gratitude-filled authentic life. I just started really reading the bible this year for the first time in my life. Another step on this very slow progress of figuring out and living out who I really am.
If I started a blog would I lose that? Would I portray myself as this great mom with a clean house and maker of elaborate meals for my husband and 5 amazing children?
Because this is the truth…
I yell a lot. I get frustrated easily and can feel my blood boil. I get bored. I want to be home and love being a mom and hate to miss even a minute but sometimes I’m counting down to bedtime.
My kids watch a lot of TV. And play on the PS4 and i-pad and computer and phone. They even play M-rated games!
My kids argue a lot. And back talk. And tell me they hate me. Just this week in a fight I slammed the door knocking a picture off the wall (that said “Our Happy Home”…the irony!) sending glass everywhere.
My kids wear hand-me-downs. They dress themselves. Sometimes their clothes are at least a size or two too small or too big. Luke’s shirts are often on backwards or inside out. Their socks have holes. They don’t match. I cut their hair and sometimes they look like complete rag-a-muffins.
My house is a mess. It is beginning to smell like a cross between a locker room and an outhouse. I wear flip flops around because I hate the grit on my bare feet. The walls have fingerprints and every painted corner is cracked and peeling. The carpet is disgusting and turning more brown every day (except for the reddish stain on the third stair where Luke threw up skittles while recovering from the stomach flu). I haven’t cleaned the bathroom in two weeks which means there are dead ants all over the floor.
Oh, and I rarely cook. When I do it’s something like tacos or spaghetti (my husband’s favorite wink, wink).
Can I really start a blog and remain true to that? True to myself and the life I’m trying to live?
Because this is also the truth…
We are healthy. My children are healthy and growing and learning.
My marriage is strong. Dan is sober 9 years now and we are better than ever. We respect one another and put up with each other. We each put the other first.
Dan’s work provides for us. And allows me to be home for now. I get to be home every day cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, reading, playing, folding laundry, and driving them around. I am home raising babies during this precious season of their lives.
We have a nice home and yard and cars and a garden. We have sports and skiing and Lagoon passes and small vacations and a dog and all our gear. We truly have everything we need and more.
We laugh A LOT. We forgive A LOT. We love and love and love.
So much goodness. So far from perfection.
So I’m going to write about that. About the imperfect, boring chaos of our lives raising 5 kids. I’m going to tell the brutal, beautiful truth. I have so many stories to tell!