Fair readers, it’s been a while. I guess I’ve been busy. I’ve had a couple of kids, in fact. And that said, I don’t even know where to begin, but I do feel I must begin again. In the last few months, I’ve had the deep conviction that self care is about much more than the occasional shower. There is my physical self, and then there’s my creative self– my spirit. Having one and then two daughters has been amazing for my spirit. I’ve all but quit my day job. That is liberating. It has allowed me to be just me, rather than a person representing a brand. I’ve made some fierce, creative, compassionate and just plain fun mom friends. People say having kids is murder for your social life. Mine has never been better. (Okay, maybe it was slightly better the last two years of high school). In the past week I have been on three play dates. Life has been mostly good in the land of swings, slides, and snails. I will no doubt elaborate in future posts.
But back to that spirit. It has been stirring. I have been reading and writing and binge watching things. I am hungry for ideas that nourish the imagination. So I feel like I must be more diligent in unfurling my own imagination. Ever since my first sleepless nights four years ago (and they were very sleepless– my older daughter has always felt that sleep plays a trick on her when it finally overtakes her, and she wakes up startled, angry, and determined it won’t happen again), I have felt like my hand moves faster than my brain. Those neural pathways have become weed-tangled from neglect. You see it, right? Go back and look at my other posts. I’m sure this one sounds cliched and melodramatic by comparison. Nonetheless, moving forward. Clearing the weeds. Unpacking my experiences one square foot at a time and figuring out where this path ultimately leads. I am a writer. I will write. I will write about motherhood because it has captivated and defined me, and because I want to capture it and define it while it’s raw and fresh. I will write about ambition because it still stirs under the squishy, rosy, spit-up-covered weight of motherhood.
So here I am. The baby is miraculously on her second hour of nap, the preschooler (I will admit this!) is on her second hour of television. My kitchen is clean, I am dressed, I showered yesterday, I had a haircut in November. And now that I have remembered my WordPress password, the baby stirs. I hear her little uh-uh-aaaaah nana mamma as she wakes up. But I will be back. For now, we are off to the library and park for a picnic.
I have four years worth of stories backed up inside me. If there’s anything you’re interested in hearing, leave me a note in comments.