It’s been two years since I’ve written a blog post. I’ve continued to write, for magazines, at writing workshops, in my journal, in my almost-two-year-old son’s journal, but I haven’t really had any desire to start blogging again until now.
We just moved back to Nashville after three years of living in Northern Massachusetts, where Marshall was in Seminary getting his M. Div. Somehow we are finished, and by the grace of God we are back in our hometown, back at our home church, back in our old home, picking up right where we left off.
Except not really. Oh how the years go by, and how the seasons turn, and all the other clichés about time and change, and so on and so forth.
I mentioned we have a son now, right? And a girl on the way.
So yeah, I’d say a lot has changed. As far as I can tell, few things change your life as much as the addition of a child to it. I always thought I would enjoy having children, always not-so-secretly wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, but I never really knew if I would love it, or even be cut out for it.
And let me start by saying, it’s so much harder than I ever imagined. There’s something about being a stay-at-home mom that sounds so appealing to the innocent bystander. I mean, you get to stay home all day! No more waking up early, rushing to get dressed in your business casual, grabbing your cup of coffee and running out the door at 7:30 am to truck it to work (ugh! WORK!) every morning. How nice would it be to take my time in the morning, maybe watch a little morning television while I sip my coffee (or maybe I’ll start drinking tea when I’m a mom! It’s so relaxing), and what if I didn’t even change out of my pajamas until 10? It’ll just be me and baby, enjoying our perfectly imperfect home, singing and playing games and napping until Daddy gets home at 5 and helps with bedtime.
Not quite. I will admit, I do enjoy being home, and I don’t miss going to an office. But babies and toddlers don’t really enjoy relaxing all that much, and they really don’t like it when other people try to relax around them. It’s like they have some radar for when Mommy decides to take a little break and check her email or open a magazine, no matter how long they have been sleeping or playing by themselves, the second the thought crosses your mind that “oh! I can catch up on my Real Simple!” they decide it’s time to need you again.
Or, for example, right now, “nap time,” when I was hoping to get a little rest before we go out tonight, Shook is not-so-quietly playing in his crib, as he has been for the last hour (after thirty minutes of trying to force him to sleep), and any minute I’m sure he’ll get tired of it and start yelling Mommy. Doesn’t look like nap time is going to happen today, for either of us.
Things never go as planned, the house is never clean enough, I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t tired, and gosh I would love to actually shower, get dressed, and put some makeup on one morning.
But then, even as I listen to his chirps and yelps in the next room, wishing he would fall silent and get some rest so he isn’t a terror for his grandmother tonight, I love hearing his little voice in there. I wonder what he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he could possibly be entertaining himself so handily in a two by four foot box in the dark. He makes me laugh all the time. I miss him when he’s asleep. I love the way he says “Mommy,” and I have the best time guessing the words he is trying to say as he develops language and starts communicating with us more and more. I can’t imagine, and can’t even remember, life without him.
He brings out the worst in me at times, yes. But he also brings out the best in me. And gosh what a reminder of God’s endless grace, and my need for it.
That’s probably a lot of what you’ll read about here. My life, my family, God’s grace, and my need for it.
Last time I had a blog, I was scared. I was scattered, somewhat shallow with my writing, and scared of telling the truth. I can’t promise I won’t still be that now, but it’s my goal not to be. I can’t tell you all the reasons I’m blogging again, because I don’t really know them, but I felt like it was time, and I’m excited to be writing, and sharing. And I want to be honest. I may not please people, I may not draw a huge audience, but at least I’ll be honest. As a writer, I think that’s the best, and maybe the only, thing I have to offer.
(Update: still chirping away in there, two hours later. At least I got to paint my nails.)