
(That’s my foot, and that’s my favorite place in our neighborhood and that’s the best view of Seattle ever.)
So okay. I’m running a little behind. Wordless Wednesday on a Thursday? Truth-Telling Thursday On A Friday? Welcome to the story of my life.
On Blogging
But this is my blog, and I can do whatever I want here because I write for me. Kind of. But then again, this is sort of your blog too, and I write for you. And I am feeling flakey as a blogger these days because to be honest? I don’t know what kind of blogger I want to be. Do I try to be the inspirational kind, the insightful kind, the informational-uber-useful kind, the confessional kind, the non-conformist kind? I’m kinda all of the above I suppose, depending on which day.
Yes, My Many Colored Days. That Awesome and Infinitely Wise Book.
Some Days Are Yellow
Some Days Are Blue
On Different Days
I’m Different Too!
But I know some people SO do not dig that. I mean, who wants unpredictable? Who wants a constantly-changing blog with no particular “focus” whatsover? I mean, nourishing is pretty broad and you can make anything to mean something you want it these days. And really, who cares?
So why am I doing this again? OH yes, I have grand plans of becoming rich and famous online. I kid. I kid. Sort of.
On Mommy-ness Less
Some days I feel like I suck as a mom. Like, seriously. I should be fired from my job or at least get some sort of probation. Of course I’m probably being notoriously hard on myself because most days I know I am enough. But days like today, I mentally anguish over:
- never having taken my little girl to the dentist
- choosing not to vaccinate
- not always winning the brush-your-teeth battle
- giving N a little bit too much ice cream, like one a day the past few weeks!
- not succeeding at potty-training
Stupid. I know. There are so many more pressing matters. And yet. I obsess.
I Don’t Dig This Full-Time Home-Making Gig
Yup, I don’t. Please don’t tell me I should be grateful that I get to stay at home, because I do, and yet I don’t. I love being a mommy and I love my family to pieces. But this whole stay-at-home mom and full-time-at-work dad model is starting to crumble before my eyes. I hear so much about professionalizing motherhood, but what about fatherhood? I hear of how a father’s job is to love the mother, and I’m like, really? That’s it? And where is this village that is supposedly required to raise a child?
Now my husband is an amazing father, let’s get that straight. But he works so much because the Burden of Provision falls entirely on him. And as a result, he doesn’t get to spend much time with our daughter during work-days. And as for me? I’m all about finding that one magical intersection where Motherhood and Meaning and Money meet and have a party. I’m itching to do my own Remarkable-Entrepreneur thing and unleash my superpowers and am worried sick that admitting to that might possibly kick me out of the Good-Mom Club, forever. And I hate that I care about being part of that club (who runs it anyway?) and yet I want it to be known hitherto that I make every dinners from scratch, still nurse to sleep, mostly buy wooden and nourishing toys, make playdoughs and do Montessori-stuff, don’t spank, nurture my child’s nature and so on and so forth. Yuck.
I am a Mom. I Love. And That’s Enough.
This Thing Called Humanity
And so it goes. The Cycle. Icky-But-Inevitable Cycle. When I tirelessly put my energies into doing the right thing. And then feeling drained and joyless. And then releasing my pent-up anxieties over my inability to be perfect. And then finding Life once again.
I remind myself. This is why this blog is called, A Nourishing Home, and not the Perfect Home. Nourishing is life-giving and it can be both beautiful and messy all at once. Who cares about being right? I’d pick nourishing any day.
Nourishing Rocks.
Which is why you need to subscribe and be a part of this nourishing community of velveteen mamas forever and ever. And so be it.
Written while listening to the Amazing Priscilla Ahn on my IPad, alone in the living room and waiting for my water to boil so I can make tea when I really would rather eat a heapful of ice cream. It’s 10:43 pm. And I should be heading to bed.