In Which I Say What Bears Repeating



There are hundreds, if not thousands of blog posts about the end of the day as a mommy.

They come from women in all walks of life, in all stages of motherhood, sharing with the rest of us a little hope and motivation to keep on pushing through what can at times be the most difficult journey any of us have ever known. Each provides a different perspective and voice that carries the same positive message:

Even on your worst day, you can do this.

It bears repeating. I wish I could force myself to remember those few words in every low moment where I feel I’m not good enough or not cut out for the massive job I signed up for in mothering. I wish I could remember them when I feel tears in my eyes at the end of a day that felt everlasting, when I didn’t accomplish all the things I woke up in hopes of crossing off my list, when I didn’t get dinner on the table or didn’t get around to washing my husband’s socks.

I wish we could all remember how much we give of ourselves everyday, and remember forgiveness when what we have to give didn’t stretch all the way across the board.

The moments when remembering how good at this I really am, how good at this you really are, are beautiful. They are also too often fleeting, dissipating at the first, second, or third small setback that derails your idea of what a good mother does, what a good wife does, or – even worse, in my opinion – how you’re supposed to feel while doing all that you are required to do.

I’m able to see this clearly today only because I drank way more espresso than I ought to have yesterday and managed to get all the things done while still having an abundance of time to spend with my son, had dinner waiting for my husband when he arrived home, and even had the leftover gumption to make cupcakes.

That is not usual. Not usual at all.

I end most days smelling like I haven’t had a shower (because I haven’t), covered in either baby food, spit up, or milk (usually some combination of all three), exhausted, and wondering if I did enough.

But I also end every day with a child I did my best for, a husband I love, and a chance to do all of those things I didn’t quite get around to tomorrow.

And so do you. 



Hello to the World of Mommy Blogging

I believe there are times when any given person is looking for something meaningful to fill their spare time. I also can’t help but think this thought applies in heavy, super-concentrated doses to stay at home mothers. It’s not as though there’s a terrible amount of spare time as a mother in the first place, but if you’re anything like me, I’ve found myself contemplating a cornucopia of baby related topics even when the tiny apple of my eye has been laid down for a nap and I’m enjoying a stolen moment of time as an adult.

Four and a half months ago, everything changed in such a literal way that the phrase stops sounding cliché, just this once. I became the mother to a beautiful and healthy baby boy, well on the winding road towards being wifed by my partner. Gone were our nights of heading out to the local goth club, though my days of hard partying and late nights had been kissed goodbye a short time before we saw the two lines on the pee stick that foretold where our path was headed.

So now, we’re here. I’ve mused on witty anecdotes on parenthood, lamenting my lack of social interaction or peer support in the journey, and trying to find my ‘sea legs’ since day one, but it’s in complete honesty that I say there was never a spare second to start a blog.

And there never would have been if I hadn’t taken on the perspective that a blog would afford me opportunity to interact with people who are actually interested in hearing about my adventures in early teething hell, how I can’t stay awake through a forty-five minute show with my fiance, how my son giggles uncontrollably at anyone exclaiming ‘boo!’, and… Well, you get the picture.

In the interest of full disclosure, however, it seems fair to lay out why exactly mommy friends are so difficult to come by for me, at least in the flesh. I’m neither ‘crunchy’ nor mod, falling somewhere in the range of soggy Captain Crunch. We practice gentle and attachment parenting, eat food so very not organic that I’m surprised it’s not half cenobite, smoke, have the occasional drink, choose not to vaccinate, and listen to angst ridden shock rockers and metal gods while rocking our babe to sleep.

In short: I do not (and my family does not) fit into any of the convenient ‘check here’ boxes that seem to make life so much easier. I can’t simply move to one side of the line or the other because my opinions are all over the map, quite a lot like my personality. If you enjoy dark humor, mundane tales of life as a stay at home mother and wife, and general commentary on the world at large – you may very well enjoy me.

Stick around, decide for yourself. Interact through the comments, feel free to drop me an e-mail about whatever may be on your mind. Whether you’re one of the anachro-mommies, -daddies, -stepparents, -families or the perfectly even keeled, line toeing among us, let’s get together and make some noise.