Okay. So I'm not saying I'm actually bad at the craft of writing. I hope that years of school and some of those awards in English actually mean I had something of a gift for it. I'm talking about how I'm actually the worst at sitting down to write. I have these lofty goals of someday writing a bestselling novel that turns into a series that turns into these multi-million dollar movies that will allow Sam to quit his job and me to choose where we live. (He once promised that if I was the one making the money, I could choose where we live. And that fact is maybe 90% of why I even care about making money at all.) Now, these days stay-at-home moms aren't actually paid. Yes, technically we're paid in love (has anyone else seen that quote floating around pinterest?), and technically I guess you could say Sam pays me, because he lets me spend his money, but I'm not really paid for my hourly work. (And that's a shame because this lady works twenty-four hours a day, yo! I'd be making piles of cash!)
So back to my original reason for this post: I do love to write. But would you know it based on how often I actually sit down and do it? Nope. To be fair, I write all the time in my head. I write these great essays while I'm sweeping the kitchen, really funny, thought-provoking pieces on how motherhood is changing me and how I'm not as ridiculous as I thought I was, or that I'm more ridiculous than I ever knew I could be. It's a shame the world will never read them, simply because I can't make myself sit down and write for a bit. (And because they are that great. Or maybe I just think they are because I'm sleep-deprived?)
When I was pregnant several people mentioned that they assumed I must be writing a ton to document my feelings on pregnancy, and I'd just sort of nod and say something like, "Mmm, mmhmmm, yeah totally," because I really wasn't. I think I journaled maybe 10 times during my pregnancy, which is pretty pathetic. And I assumed that having this baby would unleash this whole new side of creativity in me, and since I'd be home with her all day I would have all this extra time to write. (Guess what though? When I'm not feeding, changing, or playing with the baby, I'm cleaning or cooking or grocery shopping or folding laundry. Weird how I never knew how time-consuming a baby could be...) Even since having this baby, I've journaled maybe five times. It's sad because I really want to document this time in our lives, both for me and for her. I want to remember every little piece of it, and how do I properly do that without writing it down?
So my new goal is to journal here - right here on this blog. I know, right? What a concept. I'm officially not blogging so that people can admire my writing anymore, I'm doing it simply so that I'll keep writing. For myself. I'm hoping the fact that people can read this blog will work to keep me accountable, since no one would ever know whether or not I'm writing in my own personal journal. Also, I'm spending a lot less time constructing well-planned posts, because I'm sorry, who has time for that when they're furiously typing away before the baby wakes up? So my posts will be more of this rambling gibberish you're getting right now - the real, unedited me. Not exactly stream-of-consciousness, but somewhat. Don't judge the grammar (I know...me, Janna, and Monica are probably the only people who do that anyway), or the fragment sentences or the completely random paragraphs that don't follow any order. Just, if you would, encourage me to keep writing. When I haven't posted in awhile, say something - hold me accountable! It's easy to get consumed in this mom business, but I don't think it will do me or Ellery any favors if I completely lose myself in taking care of her. I think in order to stay sane, I need to make time for the things that I love, the things that help make me a happier person.
But I mean, can you judge me for wanting to spend alllll my time with her?
Yes, she fell asleep in this position. Rock & Roll, baby!