It’s been six months since I’ve hit “publish” on anything here. Six months since my brain or body has had the time, energy, or mental capacity to complete a piece I deem worthy of the “publish” button.
Things that stop me from writing:
- Toddler life
- Commitments (working on a post RIGHT NOW about the over-committing mom)
- Netflix (Let’s be honest here.)
Reasons why I chose to create this space in the first place:
- I don’t wan’t to forget.
Motherhood seems to come at me in seasons. Seasons of busy. Seasons of worry. Seasons of lazy. Seasons of being in the moment. Seasons of knock-you-over morning sickness. (That’s a neat one!) With every season my focus is shifted, my priorities change, and a different “me” emerges.
With every month that has passed without hitting that “publish” button, I felt a little defeated. How ridiculous is a blog with a six month gap in content? Every time a friend would ask how this project is going, I’d feel equal parts thankful for their support and embarrassed to report that it’s just sitting there staring at me.
The other day (while nesting like a mad woman), I stumbled upon a stack of my old adolescent journals. These are some of my most prized possessions. Thirty-three year old Bailey couldn’t care less that sixteen year old Bailey needed a break and didn’t write for a few months. I’m just happy she came back. To tell me more about a life I can only revisit through her words.
Seasons. With every season I pass through, so are my kids. So are my parents. So is my husband. Time isn’t going to wait for me to pause Netflix, or get over my own self-doubt. So I’ll keep going. One messy, maybe shorter than I’d like, post at a time. So sixty-three year old Bailey can pop in and to revisit this day, this wild and messy season.
What’s my current season look like?
Two happy and tired parents, navigating marriage 10 years in and balancing a soon-to-be family of 5. Mason is newly five years old. Endlessly curious. Funny, stubborn, anxious. SO smart. Particularly interested in Mommy’s growing tummy and always has a new question regarding what’s about to happen to my body/the baby/our family, come February. Georgia is three and a half. Sassy. Loves her brother intensely, and thinks he’s the world’s best human. Has the maternal instinct of an experienced mother, and is currently hard at work nesting for her new baby brother or sister while simultaneously mothering 12 baby dolls. No one sleeps well, ever. Except maybe Stanley. Who, by the way, will be ten years old in April. TEN. There’s a lot going on in our home, and in our lives. Some yelling, some crying. A LOT of laughing. And so much love.
Here’s to the season you’re in, and the one that’s coming next.