That was my very first blog.  My original intent was to have this little corner of my life where I could write and it not be about my kids.  Just reading it, I realize even though I’d been practicing at being a mom for three and a half years, I certainly didn’t know what the hell I was doing yet.    I guess even after those years I was still too new at being “Mommy” (or still too wacko from the postpartum depression with Jordan) to realize that being a mom isn’t a name or a title or something you do, but it’s in every part of who you are.  There’s no separating part of your life away to be untouched by your children, not if you’ve truly given yourself to being a mother.

Even if I write something now that has nothing to do with Elle or Jordan, which is rare, they are a part of it because they have consumed me.  I think differently than I did before motherhood; and most beneficial to me, being a mom has helped me to become comfortable in my own skin.

That’s not to say I am completely at ease with who I am.   I have so many insecurities and have made so many mistakes in my life, I’m not sure I’ll ever be at peace with me.   I  also don’t have thousands of dollars or a free hour a week to devote to therapy to help get me there.  I just have Jim, some great friends, a supportive family, and my kids.  Combined, this little support group offers me someone to ground me, people who love me regardless, laughter in the midst of the crap, and a future to love and fight for.  If that isn’t therapy at it’s finest then I guess I’m in trouble.

In starting this project, the reliving of my first blogs and reflecting on what I’ve learned since then,  I  have discovered so many more moms than I was ever aware of that write about their adventures in mommyhood.  I’m sure there are almost as many motivations in writing as there are writers, but there is absolutely one common thread (aside from loving our kids- if at the very least when they’re sleeping).  We all wonder if what we’re doing is even remotely “right”.

I can say with 100% assurance that I have most definitely not done everything right.  I doubt if I’ve even done half of it right.  I do; however, know for certain that my kids have thrived even in my wrongness.  They’ve learned that “mommy is so not perfect, but at least she says she’s sorry”- and means it.  “Mommy loses her temper”, and her mind more often than not, “but she always loves us”.  And “mommy might have days that she can’t manage to get herself off the couch from sheer exhaustion, but the rest of the time she works hard at caring for us”.  In seven years of mommyhood, I’d say those are some decent truths to have passed on to my babes about how I operate.