The other night, as we laid in the dark and sleep started to overtake me, the husband suddenly said, “Wow. Six years ago I was reading your blog and falling in love with a girl I didn’t know.” I chuckled at how… 2011 we were. Falling in love and saying yes to a marriage proposal and we got to know each other through my blog and emails sent back and forth.
He went on with, “I ruined it. I ruined louissa.com.”
Then I laughed out loud.
Oh, but my life is so much more than a small space only a handful of people ever see. And I’m rather glad my worth isn’t wrapped up in the continuing of what used to be a rather loved hobby.
Today, out of curiosity, I looked and saw that it really has been 11 months since I last hit the “publish” button and documented a bit of my daily life.
Yes, I guess he did ruin it. He ruined it by asking me to be his wife, the mother of his babies, his best friend — the things that now consume my time and energy and have taken away what was left for hobbies. And I wouldn’t trade that for any sort of reputable space on the world wide web — even the sort where people write for fun and somehow make money doing so.
But funny — the last time I blogged I was daydreaming of the day my boys would share a room. We’ve now tried that. And it did not go well. I stubbornly stuck it out for a week and a half, dealing with the return of newborn sleep patterns and insisting that things would settle down. My patient husband would say, “Okay, let’s try again,” after every awful night. Eventually I was too tired — and too aware that soon my nights would be dictated by an actual newborn — so I said “uncle”. Ellis’s crib, which he refuses to give up, was moved back into a small, unfinished room he’s been sleeping in for the last year and life went back to it’s old blissful semi-restful state.
The husband, having been an only son, isn’t quite as convinced that the sharing of a room is as necessary as his wife seems to think it is. BUT IT’S THE BEST! My memories of shared bedroom spaces are some of my favorites. So here I am, insisting that my boys will enjoy this someday. Just not today.
Anyway. About once a year or so I try to get myself back into the routine of this jotting down bits of life. Memories are fading already and my morning journaling is not as dedicated toward remembering the elements of life as a young family. Perhaps I’ll try to get back into the swing of things. You know, for the next month. And then Baby #3 will make his/her appearance and I’ll go into blogging hibernation for another year.
But for today I’ll remember that although there are days that don’t go as I want or had planned at all, there are the Gift sort of days and today is one of them. This morning has been full of play and happy dispositions and helping cheerfully when asked and a mom who maybe doesn’t feel as undone as she does some days.
It snowed and the home felt cozy and warm. Bach, Debussy, Mozart, and Chopin have played in the background. I’ve crossed a few things off my list but remembered to pause now and then to be present in the world these two were imagining at times. Yes, these are the Gift sorts of days. Although they’re not all like these, these are the sorts I imagined (because my own childhood memories are of the days filled with calming music and candles and a cheerful mom and hours spent in made-up worlds), and these are the sorts of days I hope my boys will recall when they’re grown and thinking about their own childhood.