I've mentioned before that I have blog envy. It's not just the pages that look so well put together and kind of adorable (I mean, have you seen The Secret Life Of The American Working Witch?), it's also the ability to pull off a level of creativity and wit. Once in a while I read an old post of mine and think I almost had it, but it was likely driven away by pregnancy brain or the state of chronic sleep deprivation I've been in for the last decade (Thanks, Kids!).
So, what do I write about that is valuable enough that I will want to read it again, even if no one else does? Should I write about how Brennan has apparently flushed his Little People Superman down the toilet and I have no idea about how to retrieve it? Should I write about how Liam has decided I'm his patty-cake monkey and I must dance for him (or play patty-cake in this instance) on demand? Oh, and demand is frequent. Should I write about me? And do I exist apart from this crazy family I've made?
Sometimes it seems like the other women I know are leading these incredible lives. They're selling products that they're passionate about, starting companies, writing blogs and books and the world is taking notice. They're interesting people. But me, I'm just here, in the house, making sure my daily list of chores are done and everyone has clean clothes. Don't get me wrong, I know there's a specialness in that. I know that to my kids, I'm really important. But if I can't find what makes me special and important aside from them, what will I do when they grow up? Who will I be without them?
There have got to be some things that I'm good at apart from being their mom. Especially since, some days, I'm not even sure how successful I am at that.
Huh. I had thought this blog post was going somewhere more positive than this. I must need more coffee.