Write what you know

I’ve wanted to start a blog since forever, but never knew what to write about. People say, “Write what you know,” but I didn’t think anyone wanted to read about my fairly uneventful life. Insert baby here. I got pregnant in April 2015, and life started to get eventful in the best way possible. Our family was expanding, and I was fantasizing about having a mini-me, someone who would love organizing, dancing to Britney Spears and devour chicken nuggets. She would be well behaved and beautiful, but also smart. She would enjoy reading, sleep through the night, never get sick and hit all her developmental marks right on queue. HA! Pre-baby, I knew what kind of mother I wanted to be and I knew what kind of kid I wanted to raise. Now I’m just lucky if I get out of the door on time with a matching outfit for the kiddo (because who cares if my outfit matches anymore), the dogs fed, a cup of coffee in my stomach and enough gas to get from home to daycare to work.

Motherhood is an interesting ride. In 15 months, I’ve learned a lot about my patience, my ability to make a fool out of myself and my inability to predict the future.

And now I finally feel like I have something to write about. “Write what you know.” Well, I know I have a 15 month old daughter, Ainsley, who surprises me every day. A husband, Adam, who’s both a pain in the ass but also a wonderful provider and protector for our family. One really stinky dog, Alfie (and I mean really stinky – major gas problems), and an elderly dog, Otis, whom my husband compares to a gremlin.

My life is not perfect. I’m not writing this to show how amazing things are and how flawlessly I live. I’m writing this because motherhood is so much more than I thought it would be, and sometimes it’s hard to talk about it. It’s not easy talking about how exhausted I am, how I lose sleep over how much or little my daughter eats, how there are so many opinions out there it can put a new mom into a tailspin.

Sometimes when my daughter wakes me up at 6am on a Saturday, I purposely slam stuff around loudly because I begrudge my husband for not waking up. Sometimes I vacuum and mop at 9pm on a Wednesday because that’s the only time I can get stuff done. Sometimes I feel so guilty dropping Ainsley off at daycare that I spend my drive to work thinking of excuses to not go to work. I can count on ONE hand how many times I’ve been at my house without my daughter (yes, literally 5 times). Sometimes I squeeze Ainsley so tight I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. Sometimes I creep in her room at night to watch her sleep and smell her breath. Sometimes I cry thinking about how quick time moves.

Mommin’ ain’t easy. But it’s so fucking awesome.

I welcome you into my life, where my little chick rules my roost. She’s disrupted the pecking order, but shit, our home feels complete.

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