Random Thoughts and Photos

 I find myself wanting to say so much, but yet also feeling like I have nothing to say. The days of writing about playing at the playground and the antics of one kiddo or another seem to be gone. Instead, in its place, are adult (or near adult) children in the beginning stages of leading their own lives. For some of my children this means that I am no longer privy to the everyday details of their lives. It is only the select occasions that I get to share in their world, and often those moments don't seem exciting enough to share - even if I do cherish them greatly. 

It was so easy to write about our day-to-day lives all of those years ago, and there is a small part of me that misses that time period. The larger part of me though is so grateful for that time, but so thankful for the time I am living in now as the mother of three amazing adult (and one amazing near adult) children. I am so glad that I had the foresight back then to not wish away the ages that my kids were as some are wont to do. I have enjoyed every stage of their lives, even the hard ones, because I knew that it in the blink of an eye each stage would pass by. There are plenty of things that I got wrong, but that was one thing I got right. 

Of course, like most mothers, if I could go back in time from the moment I found out I was pregnant with Andy, I would have done some things differently. But I am only able to say that with the wisdom of a mother who has grown almost all of her children. I know that I did the very best that I could do in each stage of my mothering journey even when my very best was not very good. I think that is all we can offer our children as flawed human beings. I was always honest with my kids. I knew when I was not up to snuff, and tried to be as honest as I could with them about that. I have never been afraid to apologize to them when it was necessary because I wanted them to know I was human. 

If I am being honest, it has hurt my heart that this space has become a wasteland of unspoken words and stories. It has been happening for years. Gone are the months where I had multiple posts each week. Now, I am lucky if I get to this space once a month, but more often than not it is multiple months before I can summon up an experience or story to tell. The weird thing is that it isn't as if there aren't experiences being had each month. I guess maybe the problem is that this space is such a reminder of the past, of what was, and I don't do well dwelling on what was. There is an ache in my heart when I come to this space because I have spent my whole adult life being a mama - of being my kids universe, and now, one by one I no longer am. As a person who gave up a career and any semblance of a life outside of the walls of my home in order to dedicate my whole life to my children, I feel a sense of loss at the fading of this part of my life. Almost all of my children are pretty independent and don't need me for the day-to-day things of life. How does one transition from the only thing she has ever really known into something completely different?

Maybe, subconsciously, I ignore this space because it has always been a space dedicated solely to my journey as a mother. It's not that I am no longer a mother, certainly I am, but it's different now, and has been becoming so for many years. Most of the women bloggers that I follow(ed)

 no longer write once their children are all grown. That season of life of writing every day stories seems to be cast aside once our children are grown. We do not write about the transitions of moving from a place of having kiddos under our feet and in our homes to having young adults in college and the workforce. We don't show what happens to us when we move from the place of full-time mothers, teachers, housekeepers, taxi-drivers, etc...to living a life just for ourselves with careers of our own and dreams that solely focus on our own wants and desires. 

I wonder why that is - that we mamas no longer write about our worlds once the kiddos are grown. It's almost as if we feel there are no more stories worth telling. As if the only part of our lives that has value has passed beyond us and we are left with the ghosts of our past life hovering in the shadows. I cannot believe that this is the truth. Certainly, our lives are worth telling about and sharing even after our children have gone off to find and build their own lives? 

I don't have any answers, and I haven't for a long time. I only know that there is something that keeps pulling me to this space, even if it is not very often. There must be some part of me that believes that this next phase of my life is worth sharing. I suppose only time will tell... 

Sarah made this one day, when she was messing around with some legos. It is a representation of herself and Elizabeth. They are surrounded by a heart with the words 'Best Friends' written in contracted braille at the bottom. 

Superbowl Sunday snacks