Saturday, April 30, 2011

Everything old is new again...

I was re-arranging and cleaning out closets this week (part of yet another re-shuffling/re-organizing of the spaces in our house) and was sad to realize that I had inadvertently hidden away all of my favorite books, photos, and journals at the top of our bedroom closet (space saving measure) instead of having them out where I could see and be inspired by them.  I felt emotional as I went through everything and then happy that I was having an opportunity to remedy the situation!  As I looked at my many years worth of journals I wondered, "where the heck are my journals for the past 4 or 5 years?"--And the answer was, there aren't any!  Yes, there are some entries here and there but gone are the tomes filled with feelings and musings and records of my daily life--What happened?  I guess getting pregnant and having Soren and Serena happened and I gave up the writing, but I seemed to give up all parts of my self to caring for the babies and the house instead of realizing that setting aside time for myself would help everything--Every mom knows what I'm talking about--that guilty feeling you get when you take even a little time for yourself, as if depriving the children of your presence for minutes or perhaps half an hour will damage them for life-It's taken me 4+ years to figure out that quite the opposite is true--Everyone in my family would have been better off had I taken mere minutes a day to get things down on to the paper and out of my head--And I would have felt like the old me was still actively part of the mama me, instead of feeling like it, along with my journals, photos, favorite books, and wedding dress that is now too small and may never fit again, was consigned to the dark high places of my bedroom closet.  I guess no one ever told me that being a super mama wasn't all about clean house/well loved kids/yummy dinners/bills paid on time.  We make these things up as we go along and my picture of what it means to be a great mom certainly is continuing to evolve.  Writing feels good.  Seeing my old and very precious things when I wake up every morning (they are now sitting in plain site in our new bedroom awaiting yet to be constructed out in the open shelf space) feels great.  Feeling just a little bit like my old self again feels awesome.