I have been feeling the itch to write – but I haven’t quite figured out what I’m itching to write. I do know this; I don’t know what the heck happened to me. Visiting my blog has become such a depressing event because I don’t know who this person is that has left so many pieces of herself and her family in this space over the last 9 years.
I mean, I kind of remember her. She liked to take pictures, and to run. She crafted and sewed and created experiences for her daughters. Everything was pretty good for her.
Life got complicated. Mostly good complicated. Instead of having insightful thoughts to share about the good life, I find myself torn between not wanting to recount the mundane in paragraph form, and not wanting to share the not great things. I don’t know how to get back where I was, or if I want to be there, but I am feeling the new year itch. There are some things I know I want to get back. My health, my fitness, my sanity. They all tend to be bundled up together, and so when life gets busy, they all tend to go down in flames together. Busy isn’t bad, but the plummeting endorphins is bad.
Parenting has gotten to be a lot less fun and games, but a lot more though provoking and complex, in a way that I think I would like to write about it, except that it no longer feels like my experience to write about. Potty training is one thing to blog about, but the struggles and joys of raising a tween don’t seem like appropriate fodder for the internet when it comes to your own very real, very complex child.
In fairness to Eliot, I should be writing about his ever adorable milestones, like how he will now say “cheese” for a picture, and he recognizes when the “fight, fight, fight!” is about to come up in the Iowa Fight song and he waves his hand and screeches along for the “go Hawks!” Raising my third baby is already so different. I am different, our lives are a lot different now, and I just hope that he understands why even the digital baby book that is this blog wasn’t appropriately filled out for him.
One thing that he will hopefully always know, is how loved he is. This child has a couple of extra little momma’s who always want to steal his hugs and to dry his tears. His main Momma wants those things too. I love to snuggle my big guy and tell him much I love him, I just don’t do it in text like I have in past years.
When Thea was a baby I was so sad for her growth and worried that it was “the last time.” With Eliot, I am not holding on to the distant memories as I thought I would, KNOWING that this really is the last time. I consider it both a blessing and a curse that most milestones are met with a sigh of, “thank goodness we are getting to the easier part.” Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying this baby and his sweet soft baby skin, but I am also finally at that point that I always wondered if I would reach, where I am satisfied and happy to move forward. I have so much to look forward to with this sweet family of mine, and I am thankful to not look back longing to do any of this over again. I have regrets, but they don’t make me want to turn back time or make another baby. I am complete, satisfied, and more than sufficiently challenged. 2016 is going be the real year after “the baby year.” I am taking time for myself, and for my marriage. I am looking for opportunities to bring professional fulfillment without the loss of my sanity. I am going to frantically search for the time I need to take care of myself, how ever that care needs to be taken from one day to the next.
I just don’t know what to put out there anymore. Maybe it’s time to let go of the URL and move on.