For the next several blogs I’ll be writing about motherhood. In truth I have been reluctant to write my “Mom” stories. There is a part of me that feels like mommy blogs are low-hanging fruit and wouldn’t be challenging…and are cliche. In other words, I resist the idea of being ‘predictably mommy’ on my blog. I resist being defined by mommy-hood. Now, before you mamas out there get defensive, let me finish. Lately, the question I’ve been asking myself is–Why? Why does writing about motherhood make me feel this way? As if it is somehow less challenging, less creative or less compelling than writing about books or movies or politics or any of the crazy shit happening in the world. Why does writing about the world feel more noble than writing my own personal stories? Is it because I think no one wants to hear mom stories? Is it because I think I should just suck it up and pretend being a mom isn’t a huge part of my life? Is it because I feel like art and motherhood don’t intersect? Maybe…
If I’m really being honest, at times I resent the fact that motherhood is THE current event in my life. At least, the only newsworthy current event in my life. I feel like being a mother is not enough. Not special enough. Not impressive enough. It’s lame. Makes me basic. There’s a nagging, small voice in the back of my mind whispering that I should be doing more. Being more. More than just a mother. It’s a toxic voice. It’s partially ego, I know, but there’s something else there. Something about the way our culture regards mothers (and women) in general, maybe. Whatever the reason, I need to examine that resentment. Acknowledge it so that I can let it go. I need a paradigm shift. That’s what writing this series will be about for me. Writing myself to a new way of thinking about motherhood. Telling my story will help me understand who I am even as a mother. It will help me to ‘let in’ motherhood. To honor it. To love it.
So mom-blogging here I come…without resentment, but with honesty.
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