Wednesday, July 15, 2015

hey you

I'm just popping in really, really quick to say I'm not done with this space. I all but quit blogging these past few months & I feel clogged. I feel better when I shake out my words & hang them to dry here, and so that's what I'm going to do.

Writing makes me a healthier, happier person. I don't always have something funny or helpful to say, but that's okay. All I want is to show up & be authentic with you.  I don't need to read women who lead extraordinary lives full of adventure way outside my grasp. I just want to read the words of women who are honest about whatever it is they are doing and seeing in their every day.

I was wiping the polish off the living room furniture a couple weeks ago (something that happens when the light hits the furniture jusssssst right) when it came to me why I haven't been able to write for weeks and weeks on end: I'm worried I've been fake here.   I don't know if I really have. That's about as long as I had to think about that thought before I went on with chores and playing referee with the kids and their toys.

To me, there would be nothing worse than being fake with you. We've got enough of that already both in social media & even in real life, especially with women.  There's nothing I find more refreshing than a woman who can be totally herself, who isn't afraid to show up and say, "yep, this is what you're looking at", a woman whose presence you walk away from feeling lighter, not heavier, happier (not guilty) for also being your real self too.

Turning 30. It's been real. It's like a friend walked up next to me & she and I are looking over a table at it all. All the things. All the things I've thought, the plans I've made, the experiences, the stuff, the possessions, the fears, the dreams, the opinions, and even more stuff. All of it.  And this friend is nice and all. Very lovely. I like her. But she's also like "girl, some of this needs to GO." The fluff. The lies. The fears. The unnecessary guilt, the pressure from others, the weight of junk we just don't need. Toss it. Get it out of here. Anything that's not essential--show it the door.

See that's all going on internally. And then I think of writing, and I go all jiggly wiggly and go on with dishes and reading books to kids. Because I like who I'm becoming inside but she's a bit do I say this....ordinary than I thought.  I don't know if ordinary is the right word. I'm pretty sure it is though.

The twins are playing outside on the patio right now.  Alistair has a handful of hydrangea flowers he is working his way through with Emerick. They are shoving it into the t-ball stand their aunt gave them for their birthday. They haven't actually used the set yet.  Thomas confessed after church one Sunday that he broke the bat, and felt terrible about it, crushing the sidewalk chalk into beautiful bits. I told him he had to replace it with his money, but then he worked me so hard with his confession that my resolve to play collector dissolved and I said his natural consequence would be going without the bat (that wasn't even his) and also the chalk (which admittedly, I was glad to see gone because: chalk).  I'm making up parenting as I go. Sometimes I consult a really wise, most favorite book, Making Up Parenting As You Go.

I don't know why I told you all of that. Probably because the twins and their dusty jean butts out there look so cute tearing apart the few sweet hydrangea petals that survived the heat this week. And because this post is sounding very narcissistic and therefore about 1000 more boring than, what I realize now, is essentially my kids destroying the lovely things we own.

Happy day to you in all its ordinary lovely.

If you are reading this, hugs.

your real friend,


  1. I really relate to this. Therefore, not boring. :-) Hugs to you. Being real is tiring but so worth the effort. And we're writing our lives, so there is bound to be ebb and flow. I'm in an ebb and can't seem to find any flow myself, but just seeing what you said about that is comforting. Much love to you.

    1. Abbey, something I can't bring myself to flush out on the blog just yet is that the "realness" that was going on during my most recent ebb...well, my heart was in a bitter place about my role as a mom in contrast to my friends with less kids or even the same number of kids but no twins in the picture. It's past me now. I'm feeling this amazing peace, but it was downright U G L Y how I was feeling about myself and how I deflected that onto other women. I knew I wasn't in a good head space to be writing on the blog when I had a lot of behind the scene gritty work in my heart to be done. There are definitely humbling seasons of quiet that for me are just needed. Much love to you too!

  2. But she's also like "girl, some of this needs to GO." The fluff. The lies. The fears. The unnecessary guilt, the pressure from others, the weight of junk we just don't need.

    Yes, yes, yes! I turned 30 last October and oh man, I'm feeling the same exact way.

    1. I'm late to responding back. Forgive me .

      I wish we could chat about this. The whole process has been a little ugly but I feel like I'm seriously working out some gunk and I have to "touch it" in order to completely toss it. Have you written about this at all? I would love to hear more of your thoughts!