The Blog Post I wrote in the dark of the night on my iPhone notepad… and never planned to actually publish:
I can remember when I used to come here to write the first thoughts… the journal entries of my day. The blank page was just a close friend listening. Only my fingers, the keyboard, and the swirling thoughts from the day… no deep questions about who would be reading the words or what they would think about it.
Then came stats and counters… conferences and swag. The looking eyes. The measuring stick.
I’ve been through many years of stages. Love and hate with this blog thing. I have grown roses and thorns here.
I have let a lot of writing go since the babies were born. Humble pie, humble pie. God took my rug and shook it out, leaving me with words like dust piles swept under – waiting for a good shaking.
I used to be able to stay up to write. It seems my writer self only comes out to play after the 1:11 AM train has whistled and the cat has found a curve of my blanket to purr against. In the darkness of my room I exhale and try to stay still enough to peck out a note on my dim iPhone notepad, or edit a photo while the thoughts come.
A mothers time to unwind is stolen in the night, stolen from herself. She knows she will pay twice for it when the morning comes and the little hands clamor.
I hold my breath when the nursing baby stirs and hide my phone to put out the light. Just a moment to be me. Exhale.
The cat nudges my fingers away from the pecking and my thoughts falter. Daylight is only hours away, and the list of urgent things screams through my mind louder than the late train. I should be sleeping.
I am ashamed of myself for being so selfish to stay up late yet again snatching mommy time like a child with handfuls of candy before dinner. I wonder if my thoughts were worth picking out in the dark; if they will make sense tomorrow? If I’ll ever find time in the homemaking or homeschooling or nursing or bill paying to actually blog them.
I feel silly in the dark. I think of all the bloggers who seem to have it together. All the homeschoolers, homemakers, and even just mothers who are so much more interesting and put together. Clean houses, neat children, organized desks…
The post erases itself like an unraveling thread in my mind against the snag of self doubts and the rip of comparison. Blank pages can be bullies. So can blogs. So can I.
It wasn’t supposed to be about comparisons. This blog thing.
I’m too tired to think.
Another post unfinished, my arms tired and cramping, my body sighing for rest… I sink in to the bed and feel the baby stir for one last bit of mama’s attention in the darkness. Sleep is the only thought; blog forgotten. Another day tucks itself in without the art of words to memorialize it. Another day of thoughts and ideas – eyes closing.
Sleep comes like a giant eraser. Maybe tomorrow I’ll think of something interesting to write about, I console myself. The iPhone tucked under a pillow, I slip into a dream-state and surrender my words to the greater task of motherhood again.