a chasm existed between the me of the last six years and the today me. I no longer want to be a stay-at-home mom.
There. I said it.
I'm still a mom. I'm still at home. My children provide a permanent filter through which I will always experience life. I'm fiercely grateful for the opportunity to mother Abby and Henry in the way that suited our family.
my focus has shifted away from the myopic child-focused one of late to a more inclusive one...one where I include myself, my whimsies, my dreams along with those of my children.
I cannot ignore the slow, long, empty call of an unanswered need anymore. I am a writer. I crave the sound of my keyboard clicking while I entertain the company of random words, stories and soul. I adore knowing my daily muses, Abby and Henry, will continue to inspire. I believe I found my voice when I met my children--each step, each mistake, each success with them ignites a deluge of ideas. For this, I'm forever grateful.
My timeless challenge lies within: how do I balance my children and my career in the small, cramped 24 hours I receive each day? Why do I feel guilty? How do I cajole the reluctant parts of my pysche to catch up with this new plan, the one that includes a career and time to tease out my dreams? Should I be patient or ignore their ardent pleas?
My wish for my family: for all of us to venture into our own daily, personal journeys, rejoining at the end of each one, together. To discuss, learn and open our minds. Our experiences will create a pointillism masterpiece, a Seurat-like expose. Dynamic, magnetic pieces scattering through time and space, instinctively returning home.
I know that my mindset will meld my future experiences. My future holds a satiated woman, mother, wife and writer who lives contently because she listens to the whispers of her heart. She's fulfilled. She's probably tired. But she's damn happy.