Babies and kids have been the bulk of my life for the last 15 years. I’ve been having babies, nursing babies, and getting up in the night with babies. I’ve been taking care of little kids: changing diapers, potty training, washing laundry, doing dishes, cleaning house, making meals, grocery shopping, trying to teach my kids to be nice, to share, to read, to work hard, to pray, to be positive, to be brave, and to pursue their interests. All good things.
The last several years I added teenagers to the mix, so I’ve been figuring out a whole host of new things: when to let my kids have a phone, how late they should stay up, how important grades really are, when you can get a job, when and how often they should hang out with the opposite gender. Not to mention how to remain calm when your teenager is learning how to drive.
I have 6 beautiful children. 1 boy and 5 girls. From teenagers down to one very adorable, vocal, knows-her-mind three-nager. And for the past 15 years, I’ve been doing exactly what I wanted to do, I’ve been focusing most of my time and attention on raising them.
But now my youngest is 3, which means she practically doesn’t need me. (I hope you all can sense the sarcasm there; my husband says she has a healthy addiction to me). But with no pregnancy or newborn coming up behind her, it feels like there is a little breathing room for me to devote some time to an endeavor that has nothing to do with my kids.
Hallelujah, right? This is the moment that all mothers of little children dream about!
There’s only one problem. I can’t figure out what in the heck to do with myself! I think I stifled so many personal desires or dreams over the years to build this amazing family I wanted. And don’t get me wrong, my family is beautiful and I don’t regret any of the sacrifices I made. I feel blessed every single day that I get to be surrounded by these wonderful people, that I get to be a witness to their life and journey as they learn and grow, that I get to be a recipient of so much love. But I think it has been so long since I’ve considered anything outside of my family dream, that I’m having a hard time hearing my heart speak in that arena. I’m out of practice.
As I’ve pondered what endeavor I want to pursue, the only thing I know if that I want to help people improve their lives in a personal way. Pretty specific, right? How do I communicate that I’m laughing and rolling my eyes at how ridiculous that sounds? I know it is so vague, but that’s the best I’ve got at this point. Years and years and years ago, I went to college and got my degree in psychology, about a month before my first child was born. I’ve always considered going back to school one day and becoming a therapist. But right now, I’m not really sure if that’s the path I want to pursue. And that’s a big commitment to undertake if you aren’t sure you really want to be doing it.
I’ve talked with my husband, friends, and family, over the past few months about feeling like it was time for me to figure out what I want to pursue. It was suggested more than once that I should start a blog, Instagram, or Youtube channel to help other women by sharing all the things I’ve figured out the last 15 years raising my kids and running my household. Each time that was brought up, I had some uncomfortable feelings. Who am I to tell people how to make their lives better? Who am I to talk about raising kids like I’m am expert? To talk about improving your marriage? I’m just figuring it out like everyone else. I’m not perfect. I don’t know everything. But what I do know better than anyone, is that I DON’T have it ALL figured out.
Yet the question that keeps coming at me is, “Does anyone?”
I have benefitted so much from other people who have opened up their lives, their hearts, and their mouths. I love stealing ideas and being inspired by the things other people are doing. It doesn’t mean that I walk away from a conversation, a book, or a podcast with the intention to copy it all and become someone else. But I have picked up little pieces from so many people and melded them together in a way that works for me. And that wouldn’t be possible if people didn’t open up their mouths.
So this is me. Opening my mouth. Attempting to share my imperfect-work-in-progress-still-figuring-it-out self. Because I’m grateful for others who have done the same.
Work In Progress 