Not all days are great, but some are. Those are the ones I focus on, sometimes, likely, to my detriment. The good days, the ones that come on me without warning, buoy my heart. They keep me lazy. Rob me of ambition. Because what else do I need when I can finish school early with my kids, load up second hand strollers with the people I love, walk along the water to buy flowers and chocolate milk and iced coffees? What more can I ask for when we can stop along the way to play on wooden pirate ships? When there is an old galvanized bucket waiting in my mother's yard, ready to be filled with one too many grandchildren?
And when those days find their way to me, I do everything I can to grab ahold of them and to keep them tight. Stretch them out while babies fall asleep on comfy outdoor sofas or in the arms of their fathers. I tuck them away in my memory. Give them amble space to grow.
There are at least a dozen reasons that I get embarrassed about keeping a blog, at least this type of blog: a lifestyle/ mommy blog. I recognize the narcissism. I hear the cliches even as I type them. I know this offers little in the way of adding to any greater good.
Chief among my concerns is that it is not authentic. I worry that people who know me look at it and see all that remains unsaid.
There are so many things that I don't include here. Like how I worry about money. And when I fight with my family. I try to gloss over the fact that I am self-righteous and judgmental, and I can be a complete flake. I yell at my kids, and I cuss way too much. There are times when I feel suffocated with the weight of loving too many people, many of whom make the most god awful decisions known to man.
That stuff is a part of me. It's a part of my children and my family and my story.
But the good days, like this past Friday which rolled into Saturday and Sunday too. They're a part of me and us and it, too.
And like I said, that's what I do my best to focus on.
