There are many reasons I wanted to start a blog. To maintain a professional skill set. To document everything we are doing to our house and yard. To be able to tell people that I am actually doing something as a stay at home mom (other than just raising our kids, of course). The list could go on and on, but the bottom line is that nearly all of the reasons I have for creating this blog are bogged down with the pressure of creating some sort of perfect, polished, finished product. Ironically, it’s that self-inflicted pressure that is stopping me from actually producing.

My husband works nights, so I typically have three or four nights in a row to myself (after 8 o’clock when the kids are asleep . . . unless they decide not to sleep . . . ) and I always plan on dedicating one of these nights to blogging. Yet I almost never do it, and it’s driving me crazy. So tonight, I decided “Fuck it – just write!” And so I am.

One of the posts that is on my list to complete is about how my diet is going in May. It’s actually been going pretty well. I only did it for the last two weeks, but the basic rules were no alcohol at home unless we have company, no sugar, and no eating after 8pm (or if I eat later, I have to make sure not to eat breakfast until 12 hours have gone by). I have lost about 5lbs and have been doing zero exercise, so something is working. Hooray! But tonight I just really needed to write, so here I am at 9:30 with a very generous pour of delicious Cab-Sauv, some chocolate and some jazz music playing in the background . . . and I am writing.

And it feels so, so good.

A typical night when my husband, Jon, is at work starts with me having a paralyzing dilemma of trying to figure out what to do with my two hours alone. When I was pregnant, there was no question; as soon as my daughter was down I immediately plopped myself on the couch and watched some shows. Zero guilt. Now that my second child is nearly eight months old, I have an entire list of things I should be doing, but the question becomes a matter of which thing takes priority. In the early months, sleep definitely trumped all else. Once my kids were down, so was I. Now that we typically only have two wake-ups, I have a little more energy and like to try and get things done in those two hours I have to myself. The rotation often consists of whether to clean the house, prep food, do yard work, exercise, read, watch tv, or write. Often in that order. Needless to say, writing almost never gets done.

But tonight as I was out watering the garden, things that I wanted to write just kept running through my head. A big part of that is the meditative nature of gardening, which is one of the many reasons I love working in the yard so much. But it also made me realize that I need to prioritize writing and stop worrying about making it perfect. It never will be. Not because I’m not a good writer. Who cares if I am or not? The point is that nothing is perfect. Sometimes it’s not about the product, it’s about the process. Everything I’m doing right now is a work in progress. The house, my kids, my body. Why should my blog be any different? I love writing, and I’m doing myself a disservice by not exercising my “writing muscles.”

So tonight I decided that things would be different. I will have many blog posts that will be structured and have a purpose. But this isn’t a business. At this point I’m not devoting time to actively seek followers and am mostly just doing this for practice using the platform and catharsis for myself. I need to start just having posts that are dedicated to my thoughts. Trust me, as a stay at home mom I have many, many thoughts!

I haven’t been consistent on structured posts, but I will pledge to myself now that I will publish a “thought” post once a week. Maybe that will be my one cheat day when I can break the rules and drink while at home even though we don’t have company. Though one could definitely argue that thoughts are company . . . so . . . maybe my wine and I will be writing more than one thought post per week??

This blog is about to get a lot more interesting . . .