I was going to blog … and then life happened

 Just over two-and-a-half weeks ago, I was going to write up a fabulous blog post. Something had struck my fancy and I was feeling uber creative.

And then, I got sick. Like, literally, got sick. So blogging got pushed back.

About two weeks ago I was going to finally post the 16 recipes I’ve been meaning to put up, mainly so that I can clear out all their pictures on my phone and camera.

And then, cleaning and laundry got in the way. Like, literally, in the way. They were piled atop my computer. So blogging got pushed back some more

About a week ago I was going to finally catch up with all my readers, fill them in on all the big and exciting things happening in my life. 

And then, a baby was born (no, not mine, I haven’t been pregnant for NINE whole months and hiding it from you). Like, seriously came out of my best friend’s body. So blogging got pushed back.

Today, as I cuddled in bed with my two-year-old daughter, I tried to come up with a hoard of witty things and pearls of wisdom I could impart on anyone who stumbled across this blog post, something that would make up for the fact that I’ve been basically missing in action for three weeks.

And then, I started crying. Like seriously, crying, because I was laying in bed, snuggling with my little girl and instead of treasuring every butterfly kiss and giggle my squirmy daughter was letting loose (solely to avoid bedtime) I was creating a mental grocery list of all the things I wanted to do tonight, needed to do tonight and could be put off tomorrow. 

I was cursing my husband for not helping me clean up more (despite him having worked a 10-hour day and then coming home and sitting on the floor while his daughter made him play dollhouse and Barbies for an entire hour). 

Ultimately, I was cursing myself for not being able to do more. In the course of the day, I hold so many things over myself, from not feeling like I’m making enough worthwhile work contributions for my bosses and coworkers to see how much I love and appreciate my job, for not waking up at 4 a.m. and working out obsessively, for not whipping up some healthy breakfast (lunch, dinner) for my family to nosh on, for there still being a heap of laundry overwhelming our chair and a half, for the fact that I’m not skinny, for not finding more patience for my daughter, for needing to get the carpet cleaned, for not knowing where half the stains on the carpet even came from, for feeling so utterly suffocated in my house because there is literally stuff EVERYWHERE, for letting all of these little things bother me so much and for not being the woman, mother, person, friend, daughter, sister, cousin, niece, I think I should be. 

Since getting pregnant with my daughter nearly three years ago, some kind of switch went off in me. The kind that wants things to have a proper place, the kind that gets irked by all the tiny leaves that seem to float into our house even though the trees shouldn’t even be losing their leaves, the kind that penny pinches and overexerts herself between a 40-hour job, her Saturday column in the newspaper, anywhere from two-10 softball lessons in a week and the kind that overall feels frazzled most days.

I love my life, I truly do, I count my lucky stars for my husband, my daughter, my supportive family members and loving the hell out of my job everyday, not too many people can say these things, I know.

Yet at the end of some days (particularly days like today), I can’t help but feel like maybe I’m not doing it right. Maybe life isn’t all about the bills, being skinny, 5-inch heels, big televisions and fancy houses. 

Maybe, at the end of the day, life is about watching your little girl put her Barbie babies to bed, rock them in their crib and sing «Twinkle Twinkle Little Star» to them. Maybe it’s about the compassion your two-year-old baby displays when you’re lying in bed with her, overwhelmed with everything and although doing your best to avoid crying in front of her, to avoid losing it, the way she kisses your cheek and says «I love you mommy,» «you’re my sugar» and «don’t be sad.» 

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how much laundry remains unfolded, how many blog posts remain unwritten and how many stains are decorating the rug. It’s about letting go of the little things and learning what the big things really are.

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I was going to blog … and then life happened: 1 комментарий

  1. I stumbled accross this blog while searching for some sort of tutorial, to make my daughter her own bed frame. I absolutely adore the blog and you seem rather kick ass, yourself. Another mama, searching for some friends and interaction with like minded individuals….interested in speaking with you, contact me sometime dearfall@gmail.com Tatiana ;]

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