Promises

I've started a million blog entries as of late and have erased all of them. A million might be an exaggeration. To be more accurate, maybe I've started a handful. O.k. fine. Like two or three. Four. Tops.

But, I've deleted them after staring at the screen for what feels like an eternity.

I guess I'm standing at the mouth of unknown territory. I've been busy raising babies and chasing toddlers. I've been at the wheel of this domestic ship - doing laundry and cleaning up dog vomit. I've been wading through my professional creek, trying to marry my role as a mom with my aspirations outside of tending to my kids. I've been busy. To say the least. And my busyness was something we can all relate to. My experiences with my kids, my work, my home life, while unique in many ways, were universal too. My writing about late nights nursing my kids, the ways their coos and gummy smiles would make me feel more whole, happier, really was quite similar to other new moms' experiences. My kids - with their sweet faces and funny toddler growing pains - were probably just like yours. My experiences just like yours. It was o.k. to share all of it because I wasn't betraying anyone's right to privacy, because privacy really doesn't mean anything to teeny tiny kids (and let me tell you, privacy also doesn't mean much to moms who have spent a handful of years pregnant or breastfeeding.)


But, now, my kids are getting older. And maybe I'm growing a bit more confused about where my story ends and theirs begin. Their experiences now are more defining. They don't just poop, eat, and stare longingly at me. Their lives are less universal. So I'm working with how to continue to recount our lives as a family with respecting their need for privacy. (This after posting a shot of my children's butts. I know. This is all an imperfect train of thought. Just follow me please.) I feel that as we age, our paths become muddier. Darker. And they should. That's all a part of growing up and learning to fend for ourselves. I had a moment the other day where I was holding my sobbing girl after a heartbreaking social encounter at school. Nothing major. Something you and I would blow off. Even laugh at. But this moment was big for her and one that I tried to write about. I sat in front to this screen and tried, several times, to put a voice to what she was feeling. And I couldn't. It isn't my story to tell. And staring at that blank screen, I knew I was standing at the altar of a new chapter. I was taking a vow to allow my kids to be themselves without me always there to document it. I was promising privacy.

I wondered what vows I've taken recently. What have I boldly declared, even with wiggly knees and pounding heart? What have I promised that scares me but also thrills me because I know it's right?

And I thought of my kids. And I thought of this precipice on which we're all standing. This cliff. And I thought of how I'm standing here, again, facing this new phase of raising children, not babies. Really just small adults, with all the complexity of the larger variety. And I thought of this new promise.

I promise to love and protect. To honor. To be faithful to both of them. And also to step back and allow them to muddy themselves with life, without me, their mom, thinking the story is mine.

But sitting her (yay for screens that don't beckon to be deleted after you've spent time composing!) I'm reminded that we renew vows everyday. Sometimes we have to change them a bit, let them evolve. But the renewal process is not just a bi yearly or yearly kind of a thing. It's daily.

So maybe this is all why I've been quieter lately on this blog. I'm savoring the change. I'm learning to let others speak for themselves (namely two ridiculously cute kids - M and L) . I'm rediscovering my own story.

I will continue to share myself and my family, for our own sake really. So we have this blog to look back on when we're older and our memories aren't as good. But I'm trying to evolve a bit, in light of this new promise.

I can try anyway.

Happy Thanksgiving week by the way. A week of renewing all kinds of vows. I'm feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by my family right now. This is what it's all about.