The tension of feminism, work & family in the “have it all” generation

the tension of work
There’s a lot I didn’t feel prepared for when it came to transitioning into my roles as a wife and mother. I’m sure every parent feels this to some degree. No matter how many books you read, or how many friends and relatives you query for tips and advice, there’s just nothing like doing it.

In the 8 years since I had my first child, I’ve come to realize that the thing I was least prepared for wasn’t the stuff all the parenting books are about, or the things you can desperately Google at 2:00 AM (sleep training, benefits/drawbacks to co-sleeping, fixing an inefficient latch, etc.).

The thing I was shockingly unprepared for was the issue of paid, outside-the-home work, and how my relationship with it—and my identity that was rooted in it—would change.

Dr. Sears hasn’t written a manual about that one.

You can’t plug it into Google at 2:00 AM and get a tidy answer.

Nothing and no one prepared me for how fraught the issue of “work” would become. As women in 2018, we’re exploring uncharted territory. Never before in history have women had the “sky’s-the-limit” kind of opportunity we have today, nor the pits and snares and traps that come along with it.

This is part of my story, and I hope it helps you anticipate, avoid, and overcome the unexpected struggles of work as a woman raised in the “you can have it all” generation.

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I’m a highly motivated, ambitious person with an insatiable work ethic, born in a generation who was raised to believe that we can—and should—have “it all.” (For context, I’m 34 years old, born in 1983, making me an elder within the millennial generation. The #1 songs around the time I was born were “Every Breath You Take,” by The Police, and “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This),” by Eurythmics. Linked for your listening pleasure, youngsters. Enjoy.)

As a young woman in my early 20s, I ran hard and fast toward my career-oriented dreams, and I reveled in everything that came with that—the travel, the promotions, the wardrobe, even the 60+ hour work weeks. I was making our foremothers proud, and wasn’t slowing down for anything, or anybody.

Somewhere along the way I made room for wifedom, and motherhood, and by the time my firstborn turned 3, the fabric of my identity—and my marriage—were coming apart at the seams. After pouring so much of myself—my time, my energy, my sense of self-worth—into my career success, it felt impossible to reconsider the “balance” of my life. I had unintentionally opted in to a lifestyle that was unsustainable, and I couldn’t see an exit route.

I felt trapped, but I wouldn’t dare talk openly about it, because from an outsider’s perspective, I truly did have “it all.” I felt disillusioned at best, and lied to at worst. Why didn’t the women who fought so hard for me to have a legitimate place in the workforce so much as mention how excruciating it would be to maintain that position once I started a family?

I suffered in silence, wondering what it was about me that couldn’t make this lifestyle work. I clenched my fists tighter around everything I had worked to achieve, telling myself over and over again that my issues were “first world problems,” and that my pain was part of the deal. I felt so much shame about my perceived inadequacy, and how I was letting women (or maybe just feminism) down.

My feelings of shame and inadaquacy were fertile ground for the ugliest, most unkind parts of me to thrive. I felt resentment and contempt toward my husband for not seeing the problem and taking some kind of action about it. I became one of those women who silently judged others who found a sense of balance in their own lives, bemoaning their lack of committment in the workforce, and sneering about the “privilege” of having a rhythm and divison of labor that seemed to bring them legitimate contentment, even joy.

I’m not sure what it was exactly that brought things into focus for me, but thankfully, one day I experienced a radical shift in perspective that laid the groundwork for me (and my family) to get on a path to thriving.

Two difficult questions came to me:

  • Is your family getting to enjoy you at your best, or are they getting the dregs after too many hours spent pouring out your best for your coworkers and associates?
  • Are you willing to sacrifice your marriage and your daughter’s childhood because you supposedly “need the money?’ Because you “worked so hard to get here?”
As you might imagine, these questions stung like salt on an open wound. And as painful as those two questions were, when I allowed myself to get really honest, the answers became a catalyst for change.

Instead of beating myself up for not being able to make the “work + family” equation work for us the way I expected it would, I started down another line of questioning. “What’s possible?” As in: “is it possible to give the best of yourself to your family, and still contribute to your family’s income?” And “is it possible to make some adjustments so that you can step back and determine a more healthy path forward?”

Asking “what’s possible” questions began to release some of the tension I was carrying, and gave me a vision and hope for possible alternatives. I began to realize that I was allowing the expectations of others, and my own pride, to hold me prisoner in a lifestyle that was slowly squeezing the love for life right out of me, destroying my marriage, and causing me to miss out on my daughter’s one and only childhood.

Since then, I’ve carefully examined the feminist “truths” that led me down that isolating and joyless path, and have really enjoyed the process of discovering for myself an enduring identity that is not tethered to my earnings, or my title, or anything that another person or organization can anoint me with.

***

If you find yourself feeling similar tension around the area of work (how/when/where you’ll work, whether or not you’ll start a side-hustle, or if your work is the care and keeping of the ones you love), I hope you won’t suffer in silence the way that I did.

We can feel so much shame for struggling through what appears to others as charmed circumstances, and if I were standing in front of you right now, I would grab you by the shoulders and tell you “that shame is a trap.” Don’t fall for it. It is designed to isolate you from the people who have your best interest at heart, in order to prevent them from speaking life and hope into your circumstance.

***

My hope, as we raise up the next generation of young women and men, is that we’ll preach a less relentless and demanding version of “you can have it all.” I hope we’ll teach our children about the seasonal nature of life, and rather than raging against it, that we equip them to bend and flex as the seasons require. I hope we’ll demonstrate love by encouraging them to give voice to their pain, and feel no shame in inviting others into the tender places of their hearts so they can receive the life and hope that will sustain them throughout all of their days.

And more than anything, I hope we’ll point the way to the discovery of an enduring identity—one that honors and values their whole person, and not just their worth as an earner or producer.

Further reading:

***

I believe that each of us was created on purpose by a loving, creative Father in Heaven, and that we’re valuable because he made us in his image. I believe that all of our work (paid, or not; splashy, or done in secret) is done to celebrate, honor, and bring glory to him, and that if we endeavor to do just that, then we have “it all.” All of what matters, anyway.

Peace to you!
mj

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Thrive in Summertime (Even) as an Introverted Mom

As an introvert, and a mother of two children under 8 years old, summertime used to stress me out, which in turn would trigger major mom-guilt. What kind of mom doesn’t love summer!? I would scold myself. (Note: practice kinder self-talk.)

Summer is supposed to be this joyful time of togetherness, memory-making and squealing children dancing in the sprinklers, but the idea of being constantly surrounded by people (even my own people), and frenetic summertime energy – honestly, it used to make me anxious.

If you’re in the same boat, or maybe this sounds like someone in your family, take comfort in knowing a couple of things:

  • You’re not alone. Somewhere between 30-50% of people identify as introverts. That means there are a whole lot of parents (and kids!) who need a less frenetic summer to feel rested and recharged.
  • It’s OK! We can honor and respect our natural disposition by creating space for our souls to thrive, even (and especially) when the season can become chaotic. (See also: Christmas time.)

Over the years, rather than scolding myself for my introverted nature, I’ve begun looking at the different facets of myself: body, mind and soul and asking a few guiding questions to help me determine what I need to thrive and feel nourished over the summer, and avoid social burnout and anxiety. Then, I take the answers to those questions, and make a plan that will protect the time and space I need to deliver on them to myself. (Hint: It helps to have your significant other on-board with the plan from the start. And it can be a really enriching exercise to go through this process together!)

Now, I want to make sure I’m being completely real here. Most of us can’t clock-out on some blissful, introvert summertime fantasy vacation (but if you can – Go get it, Girl!). But with some self-awareness, this summer can be one that nurtures your natural disposition, without dampening that of the extroverts in your family.

I hope these questions help guide you in creating the space you need to thrive, so that on the other side of this summer you feel like a nourished, renewed version of yourself. I included my answers to help articulate some possible responses.

  • What can I look forward to this summer that will give me a sense of ease and enjoyment in my physical body? Is there something unique about the summer that my body enjoys?
    Sunshine! I love laying on a beach towel in the sun, usually with a good book, or sometimes just to nap. I can do this a few times a week while the baby naps.
  • What can I look forward to that will nurture my mind? Is there an issue or idea that I’ve wanted to explore? What books or podcasts come to mind?
    I can’t wait to read more about the 9 Enneagram types, and how they interact in relationships. Book: “The Path Between Us,” by Suzanne Stabile, Podcast: Ian Cron’s “Typology.” I can listen to these while I’m doing housework, or while I’m laying out in the sunshine.
  • What can I look forward to that will nourish my soul? Who are the people who leave me feeling refreshed, or with whom I feel a sense of sisterhood?
    Spending time with people who leave me feeling refreshed and a sense of sisterhood. I’m planning to see more of Kelly (who I met at MOPS!) and Krista. Since Kelly and Krista have littles, we can do play dates during the day, and since Krista is artsy-fartsy like me, we can make it a point to go to at least one “Art-After-Dark” event in my town.

If you’re like most moms, you’ve spent a considerable amount of time planning various camps and classes and trips for your children over the summer. How could this summer be different for you, if you approached your summertime with similar intentionality? Consider making the time to ponder these guiding questions, and jot down some notes on whatever is close at hand: on the back of a receipt or the notes app on your phone. It doesn’t have to look perfect, or be on just the right paper – just get the thoughts down. Then make a plan.

No, this practice won’t magically transport you to the perfect introvert-paradise, but the simple knowledge that you have something to look forward to that nurtures your natural disposition can be enough to propel you through the next high-energy summer activity, and give you the sense of peace you need to enjoy it.

Originally posted on The MOPS Blog

“Balance” as a Process, Not a Destination

So here is a really basic thing I learned recently:

My idea of what “work/life balance” is, is wrong. I’ve always thought of “balance” as a destination, as a sort of nirvana to be achieved if I would only get more sleep, drink more water, and follow all of the rules set out for me in well-meaning blogs by women who “have it all together.” And if I could just do those things, I could “have it all.” I thought that it was my failure to follow those rules that was holding me back from achieving “balance.”

But it’s not like that, is it? This whole time I’ve been stressing myself out, trying to achieve balance, without realizing that balance isn’t a singular achievement, so much as how you walk out your days. Individually. Curveballs and all. Balance is not a destination that I can reach, and from thenceforth live in perfect tranquility. Balance is more like making the best choices I can, as they come, and trying not to let things get too out of hand.

I’ve been driving myself crazy, chasing down this mirage of “balance,” which would suddenly disappear once I reached it, only to reappear way over there, in the gluten-free aisle of the health food store, and again, over there in the books about Attachment Parenting, and again, over there on a Pinterest board full of crock-pot recipes/seasonal wreaths/crap made out of mason jars. And chasing down the ever-elusive mirage of “balance” was freaking exhausting.

Adjusting My Expectations

So lately, I’ve had this image of a tight-rope walker in my head. As she’s walking the tightrope, she expects to be wobbly, and she knows that the feat isn’t simply making it to the other side of the rope, but taking each step as well as she can. She does not expect perfection. She does not expect to “figure out” balance halfway through, and walk, perfectly balanced down the remainder of the length of the tight-rope.  And I think she has this balance thing a bit more figured out than I do.

Adjusting my expectation and understanding of balance has given me a much needed shift in perspective. It’s going to take some repeating for me to completely unlearn my unhealthy understanding of balance, but the more I reflect on my image of the tightrope walker, the less anxiety I feel about not getting things just right all of the time. Wobbles are totally okay. And I know that’s not a revelation to most of you, but it is one to me, and I am so grateful to be continually discovering that I don’t have everything all figured out.

Young and Foolish

When I was younger, I thought I knew everything. There’s something in the combination of book-knowledge and untested theories and ideologies that affords young adults a powerful sense of intellectual superiority. Learning that I do not, in fact, know everything, has been simultaneously one of the great joys/disturbing truths of growing up. It’s such an adventure, constantly re-exploring my beliefs and opinions, and understanding of the world, but at the same time, it’s somewhat frightening. I feel as if my character is in a constant state of revision, and that sensation, of never really knowing who, exactly, you are (and who you are becoming) is ultimately humbling.

How about you guys? Do you ever find yourself struggling to live up to an unhealthy expectation? What’s been your most recent “revelation?” You guys are so wise, I usually learn a lot from what you’ve got to say. 🙂

xoxo,

mj
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  • Balance, uncertainity, and blessings  via visibleandreal.wordpress.com (I found this post literally moments after I write the post above, and when I went through the pages in her site, I definitely became internet-infatuated with Stephanie. And if you check out her resources page, I can vouch for basically all of the titles listed. (She has great taste.) I’m looking forward to reading more of her work, and maybe even signing up for one of her classes!)

Beyond Tired: How Exhaustion Effects Everything

As I sit here, I’m in a sort of funk. Have you ever felt completely wrung-out? Just tired on every level? Well that’s where I am today. (But I’m not here to moan and groan, I promise.) Even though this is a lesson I’ve already learned, sometimes it takes re-living it to give the lesson new meaning, and deeper truth. The lesson is simple enough: It’s really hard to remain joyful when you’re exhausted.

I’d call myself a typically optimistic person, except that’s not giving credit where the credit is truly due. My “optimism” (which a lot of my friends and acquaintances find naively endearing) isn’t so much an inherent trait, but rather an all-or-nothing trust I have in the joy and promises given to me by our heavenly father. In my mind’s eye, I read “they that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength…” “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me…” “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose…” and so many other words and verses, shining like tiny little gems, and hidden away in my heart. And those words sustain me throughout my days, and into my long, late nights. In a way, they’re old friends that I can call on at any hour of the day, for a reminder of what is true.

But something happens to me when I’m tired. And not sleepy-tired, but wrung-out tired. Emotionally raw and sensitive. It’s as if my body knows there’s no rest in sight, so it instinctively reallocates resources to maintain its basic operations. I draw into myself, and those warm familiar words in my mind’s eye grow dim, and disappear. And it’s at that moment that I’m the most vulnerable. It’s at that moment that I lose sight of joy, and of the peace that’s being continually offered to me. And that darkness–that sort of brief, spiritual death–is terrifying.

Not to mention that when I’m that tired, all of my flaws and nasty traits flare up: I become judgmental, short-tempered, impatient, anxious, I eat too much/too little, my stomach hurts, and I usually catch a cold. It’s very Dr. Jeckyll/Mr. Hyde, and I’m not proud of it.

So knowing all of this, I feel pretty dense for allowing it to happen. But I’m sure I’m not alone. Most of us (women especially) have bitten off way more than we can chew, continually say “yes” to responsibilities when we should say “no,” and overwork ourselves to the point of physical and emotional exhaustion. What I didn’t realize, until this time around, was how much my being exhausted all the time effected me, spiritually.

Can I really offer my family, and offer God, the best of myself, when I’m this tired? Or are they getting what’s left over after all the work is done? And what kind of message am I sending to my daughter about what a grown woman’s life looks like?  I don’t like these questions much, because they poke me in a sore spot, but maybe you guys can relate? Do you have any habits for refreshing yourself throughout the day that you’d like to share? I’ll try them all. 🙂

xoxo,

mj

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Lessons From My 20s: Motherhood is Not Necessarily a Lifetime Commitment

via

I celebrated my 29th birthday on Saturday (the 1st), and because I’m the introspective type, I’ve been thinking a lot about my 20s.

I kind of can’t wait to put some more distance between today-me, and 20 year old me. And I don’t mean that in a negative way. It’s just that the first half of my 20s was turbulent, and dramatic, and full of questionable decisions and behavior (whose wasn’t?), and the more distance that I have from that season of my life, the more my perspective has improved. And the more I can cut young-me some slack. (She was a hot-mess, for sure.)

The second half of my 20s has been absolutely amazing. It’s been a season of growth, and discovery, and renewal. For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable in who I am, and who I’m becoming. Not that it has been easy. I’ve been working harder in the past 4 years than I ever have, and it never lets up. Only now I’m working for me, and I’m investing my time in things that bring me ultimate gratification, namely my family.

On Family

Speaking of family, I’ve learned some lessons about family, too. In early 2011, my mom quit speaking to me. (It’s a longish story as to why, but she has her reasons.) Dealing with the loss of my mother was (and continues to be) really difficult. I’ve experienced loss as a result of death before, but loss of a person that is alive and well is a totally different thing. Grieving the loss of a relationship with someone who is still alive, but chooses to be out of your life, comes with its own set of issues. Especially when that person is your mother. But here’s what that’s taught me about family, specifically mothers and daughters: my mother does not owe me anything. Just because I have an idea in my head of the kind of relationship I’d like to have with my mother, doesn’t mean that my actual mother is the person who is going to fill that need for me. Just because she is my biological mother, doesn’t mean she will mother me, if that makes sense. Just like many fathers don’t actually father their children, mothers can be the same way, and it’s selfish of me to expect that from my mother, just because I was born to her. Motherhood, evidently, is not necessarily a lifetime commitment.

In the same way, it’s conceivable that one day, Ellie (my daughter) might not want a relationship with me. I hate to imagine that, but it’s certainly a possibility. Knowing that she isn’t bound to me for life, I cherish our time together even more. Don’t get me wrong: I hope and pray that we’ll grow closer and closer as we both age, and I want to be active in her life until the day I die, but I know now that she doesn’t owe me a relationship, just because she was born to me. I’d be obliterated if she cut herself off from me one day, but recognizing her agency as an individual has helped me appreciate her as a person with her own identity. I cannot control what kind of person she will become, or what kind of life she will choose for herself, but I can ensure that she will always feel loved and cherished by her mother.

Going Forward

So as I kick-off year 29, I’m reflecting a bit on how I can best communicate to Ellie and Mike that they are ultimately loved, and that they will always have me, both as a mother, and as a wife. No, there’s no law in place saying I have to continue loving and mothering my daughter, or loving my husband, but those are two things that I commit to doing for the rest of my life, not just because it comes naturally, but because it’s my choice. It’s the great joy of my life to love my family, and I’m so blessed to go into my 29th year with the two of them by my side.

On a parting note, did any of you church-folks ever sing that song “His Banner Over Me is Love”? I didn’t grow up in church, so the first time I heard it was in a Sunday School class I was leading. Our speakers weren’t working, so we didn’t have any music for worship. One of the other leaders taught the song to the kids, and I learned it right along with them. I kind of want to paint something for our living room, inspired by that scripture. (Song of Solomon, 2:4: “He has taken me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love.”) If I come up with something I’m not too embarrassed by, I’ll share it with you guys when I’m finished. 🙂

I’ll be back Wednesday to announce a giveaway for a thing that I LOVE so much. I can’t wait!

xoxo, mj

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Best Books For Young Girls?

Is this a thing for little girls?

I’ve mentioned this a few times in the past, but growing up, I was never a girly-girl. I imagine that this has less to do with my inclination to “girly” things, as it does with the fact that I didn’t really have the means/relationships/security to develop that aspect of myself. I spent a great deal of time by myself, and my volatile family situation made it hard to make friends, or meet people outside of my immediate family. When I was in my late teens/early twenties, I brushed this off as an inconsequential fact of my childhood. Would I really ever care that I didn’t get the “typical” girl experience? And wasn’t I better off for not having that whole gender-identity thing shoved down my throat? Yes…and no.

Here I am now, inching towards my twenty-ninth birthday (which is about a decade longer than I expected to live), married, and with a daughter of my very own. And it wasn’t until I was married and had a child that I started to get the feeling that I was missing something.

I remember several instances when we were planning our wedding that my husband (then fiancé) would ask me for my opinion (music, food, etc), and I didn’t have a preference one way or another. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, it’s just that I had never put much thought into it, and in the end, we were going to be married regardless of which band played, or whether we had a wedding cake or wedding cupcakes. I’m not trying to say that being ambivalent with regards to one’s wedding preparations makes one “less of a woman,” but I am using that as an example of how little preparation or comprehension I had for what “normal” women are like. Most women (certainly not all), have, you know, some clue as to what they’d like their wedding to be like. What their dream house looks like. What they might name their children. Whether or not they’d even like to have children. Those sorts of things. And I had nothin’. (Which, in many ways, made my wedding totally awesome. Lowest maintenance bride ever, this one.)

But here’s the thing: growing up with so little attention paid to my gender, and yes, my gender identity (as much as people seem to hate the very idea of “gender identity”) and having so many negative examples of femininity ingrained in me from such a young age, made my young adulthood ridiculously difficult to navigate, and has left me totally unprepared for many aspects of my life as a wife, mother and maker of my home. Don’t get me wrong: I make up for it. I read a LOT. A LOT a lot. And I discuss. And I argue both sides of things to myself to discover how I actually feel about *breastfeeding/cloth diapering/vaccinations/preschools/etc. But none of this comes naturally, the way it seems to for women who were raised to be women (whatever that means). Sure, it’s not “easy” for anyone, really (life as a mostly stay-at-home-mom has been the toughest “job” of my life), but some women just seem so…natural, you know? I chalk it up to all those years they spent pushing their dolls around in strollers and playing house. OF COURSE their houses are beautifully decorated, they’ve been planning it since they were five years old! 🙂

I could go on and on about my perceived deficiencies, but that’s not the point here. The point (yes, there is one!) is that I don’t know what books to make my kid read. Can you believe it? Four paragraphs of background, just to solicit book recommendations? Before you yell at me, hear me out: My Friend Flippa? (Flicka?), American Girl? Something about a Prairie? Anne of Green Gables? Something about a black horse? These all sound vaguely like book titles to me, and if I reach for it, I feel like they’re typically associated with little girls. Am I right? I know there’s a whole sea of wholesome, little-girl books out there, but I have no clue–not a clue–where to start. I figure, if you all can give me some recommendations, I can begin reading through the list, and have them ready for Ellie when she’s five or so.

For context (as if you need more context…), the first book I remember reading was an oooold Webster’s Dictionary. It was the biggest book we had in the house, and I feel in love with it. In the back it had charts of the solar system, and the periodic table of elements, and a field-guide to rocks and minerals (not sure who’s going to carry a dictionary with them out in the field, but okay) AND a section with old-timey slang. I went into kindergarten calling boys “fella” and my favorite game was “making a list of words that mean the same thing” (evidently I skipped the entry on the word “Synonym”). And as if you didn’t see this coming: I ended up marrying an AP English teacher whose favorite book is Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov,” and who sends me hand-made postcards from work quoting e e cummings. *SWOON*

So, if you’d like to help a sister out, please leave your favorite little-girl book recommendations below. I’m partial to stories about courageous women who make huge sacrifices for the betterment of others, and stories about girls who overcome adversity and make an impact those around them. I like stories about hard work, and struggle, and when the characters get excited about things like “going into town” or “playing in the crick,” but I’ll read whatever. 🙂 Thanks for your help! And I’ll let you know what I think as I read through them.

❤ mj

*Yes, as long as possible/Love the idea, will do it with the next one/Regular vaccination schedule/Montessori, I hope

Today Was Ordinary

Today I watered the vegetable garden while Ellie trailed behind, “watering can mama. Ellie water!” So I filled Ellie’s watering can, and she watered some radishes, and then her feet. Mostly her feet.

Ellie Bean GodseyToday, we sat at the park and watched a man driving an excavator dump a huge pile of sand into a trench. Ellie was fascinated. “Scoop mama! Biiiiiig scoop. LOUD scoop!” Then Ellie fed me “soup” (sand) out of a “spoon” (dirty old plastic shovel). She climbed into my lap, said “kiss! smooch!” and gave me the biggest, longest, sandiest smooch. Then she took an amazing photo of herself, which I promptly Instagramed.

Today me and Ellie played “chase” all the way home. “Chase” isn’t about hiding or seeking, or even catching. Just chasing.

Today it got too too hot inside the house, so I filled the bathtub with cool water, and we got in and splashed each other and laughed for a good thirty minutes straight. Until our feet shriveled up and got super wrinkly. Then she ran around the house yelling “nakeeeed! naked naked naked!”

Today was so full of those moments where you breathe deeply and realize that you couldn’t be any happier than you are right now, and that you are so darn grateful to be alive. So grateful for today. I can’t believe how blessed I am, not just for today, but for having so many days like today. Every single day is better than the one before it, and what did I ever do to deserve that? I’m humbled at the thought of how little I deserve, yet how richly and abundantly I’m blessed.

Here’s to hoping that your tomorrow is even better than your today. 🙂

Writing About Not Having Time to Write.

So. Let’s talk about time. Time and parenting. Time and parenting and my self-centered needs.

You’ve heard it all before: between caring for a child, taking care of chores, grocery shopping and preparing dinner, there is a scant amount of time left-over for nurturing one’s marriage, or other less essential things like reading a book or painting one’s finger nails. I knew this. I mean I really knew it. So why did I decide to start not one but two new blogs? And have I mentioned that I’ve started a new (part-time) job? And that I’ve committed to working 10-15 hours a week at church? Just who do I think I am, anyway? Wonder Woman I am not; nor am I Bat Girl or any other female in possession of super-powers.

About a month (maybe a month and a half) ago, I was staying up until midnight or 1:00 AM writing for this blog and planning my future posts. I even have an adorable little “editorial calendar” to help me stay on track and remain as relevant as possible. (You know, because I have so very much time to write that I need a calendar to keep myself organized.) My system was worked well for about two weeks. Then I cascaded into a loosy-goosey semi-insanity called “sleep deprivation,” and that pretty much knocked some sense into me. As much as I enjoy writing, it just wasn’t worth sacrificing the precious hours of sleep. So now I try to jot down my ideas for posts, and as the list piles up I’m beginning to get the feeling like I might never catch up. And that’s okay I guess, so long as I write a bit here and there.

Sleep-deprived temporary insanity aside, here’s what the past few weeks have been like, in photos:

Among the images you’ll see my fateful encounter with a Google Street View car, and the Oscar Meyer Wiener Mobile. Both in the same week! Also pictured is the studio (work in progress!) that I’m recording in at my new job, and my very sad looking desk. Not a single tchotchke. Yet.

So I’ll just keep on going to bed before midnight if that’s okay with you all, and you can expect to see an update here once or twice a week. Deal?

Hugs from over the internets.

mj

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