New direction

So, I've always always always wanted to be a writer. This week, after my evil last class left, I decided I'm going to be! For the first time I took that little whisper from the back of my head, brought it to the front and declared, "I am going to become a writer." Obviously, I'll still teach for the children awesome pay health insurance. I like teaching, I really do (although that last period makes me want a refund on that degree nearly every day), but I love writing. Sometimes I feel like I have to do it or I'll explode. At those times, I usually write the things that have been on this blog up to now. The things that affect me, that change me in some way. But I also often feel like I have to write about the crazy, stupid, ridiculous stuff that happens to a mom of 5, teacher, and pastor's wife.

I considered starting a new blog, but I knew that I would never keep up 2 different blogs. Then I realized that reading about the ridiculousness of my daily life can only help people to understand the moments when I come to a new realization. I love Beth Moore. But I can't be her. I do not always have nice hair. I am lucky to have clean hair. I have to be the kind of person who will tell you about the time that her 2-year old would smear poop everywhere at every opportunity he got (and she consequently nearly lost her mind). The kind of person who would love to use cloth diapers but simply can't even keep clothes, blankets, sheets, and towels clean for 7 people. The kind of person who looks at her kid and cracks up because of what just came out of their mouth, leaving the kid standing there looking at her like, "What?" or, probably, "What is wrong with my mother? Are all mothers like this?" Or the one that laughs when she finds a poop trail because if she didn't laugh, she'd cry. The kind of person who sometimes has to abandon her family and head to Starbucks with a Bible and my macbook because I so badly need to hear what God has to tell me... and to write it down.

I have to be that kind of person, because I am her.  As a kid and teenager, I flip-flopped back and forth between trying to be the cool girl or the perfect girl (the two stereotypical pastor's kids). Then it was the perfect wife, then perfect mom, the crafty mom, the hippie mom, even the laid-back mom. None of those quite fit. They were like the PE clothes I got in 6th grade. I ordered a size medium because I desperately wanted to be a size medium and I didn't want the other girls to know I really needed a large. All that year, I had to wear too-small PE shorts, when my friends were wearing baggy ones. They were tight, and I felt like everyone could see just how fat I was (I probably wasn't actually fat, but I was a junior high girl, and unfortunately, that's somewhat normal in our culture). I realized that it didn't matter what the tag said; what mattered is how it fit me. So, I'm on an adventure to figure out just what type of writing fits me.

I'd like to invite you to come along with me as I share the stories of the daily life of someone whose cup is so full that it's always spilling over. Sometimes it's a beautiful mess, sometimes it's just a hot mess. Either way, I'll share and I hope we can help each other along the way.