I really wanted a nap, and I was laying in bed, switching between Twitter and my Google Reader on the BlackBerry, when I decide that I did not need to nap today (despite it being Back to Normal Day #2 and I’m really tired and sore), but that I needed to blog.
Because somebody on twitter said I was a mommy blogger. And mommy bloggers blog, am I right? About being mommies, right? But, they’re other things too, right? Like smart, funny recovering academics. And editors of magazines. And she's-got-it-together businesswomen. And widely loved/loathed loudmouths. And women who start their own companies. And real writers. And local television personalities. And the one that I pretty much want to be like in every way. They’re not just Mommies Who Blog, right? They’re Fully Functioning Adult Women Who Contribute to Society, too, right?
But, am I?
I read a blog post written by one of my tweeps that stopped me in my tracks. Because, different situations, different syntax, and? I could have been me. Kellit writes this:
Sometimes I'm not sure who I am. I can look back and see who I was. Where I've grown. And where I faltered. Hindsight truly is the gift of the wise..... Every morning, I dress up. I play the part of a mature, educated, confident woman. But when I look in the mirror, all I see are the freckles.That's me! Even the part about the freckles!
Who am I?
I know that introspection and confusion and self-doubt are all part of Growing Up. And I know that, grown up as I may seem to my son, and to some friends at church, and the PTO lady who thinks I can man the popcorn machine by myself, I'm not reeeeally done growing. (Insert my mother's barely perceptible nod and soft, "Oh, Savannah." here.)
Of course I'm not done yet, I'm only 26-and-a-half. (Yes, the half counts. And for anyone interested in my height, I am five-foot-three-and-a-quarter.)
My own self-doubt stems from lack of experience. There are plenty who would say that being married, owning a home, having 3 children are all pretty good indicators of being a Grown Up, and give me license to say that I've had "Life Experiences."
But I haven't, really. I haven't traveled the world on my own like some of my friends. I haven't finished college. I haven't had a job for more than one entire year. I haven't DONE some of the things I wanted to do.
This isn't to say that my life isn't full, or that I don't appreciate the path that brought me here... it's just that sometimes I don't recognize where/who I am today in comparison to where/who I thought I'd be by now.
My Life Experience really began when I found out I was pregnant at 19. That pretty much ended my plans for world travel (ok, not WORLD travel, but Memphis/Dallas/New Orleans/Atlanta/New York/South Carolina travel.)
I quickly went from (mostly) carefree college sophomore fun time gal to (mostly) responisble cautious informed dedicated mother-to-be.
And just 14 months after I became a mother, I became someone's wife.
And just 6 months after that, I became a pregnant stay-at-home-mom.
And just 16 months after that, I became a mother-of-two.
And just 28 months after that, I became a very tired, very haggard, very cranky, very pushed-pulled-and-tromped upon mother-of-three.
Again- each step has blessed my soul more than I every imagined possible, but my soles (the ones on my feet. See what i did there?) are a different story. They're wore out.
I just don't know how, in less than 6 years I went from knowing exactly who I was, what I wanted to do in life, and how I would get there... to I Knew Nothing Then, And Only Slightly More Now.
Yes, I grew up. Quickly. But I am still growing.
My friend Kerri, a fellow mommy-blogger, wrote this and it hit me in the heart:
I know this parenting thing is a temp gig. We get Monkey Boy for the better part of a couple of decades and then he’s on his own. If we do it right he calls us once a week to check in and we never have to bail him out of jail or put him in rehab. ...My time will be up, and he’ll be off conquering the world, and I’ll be left waiting for his weekly phone call.
This is why I’ve continued a career, tried to keep my marriage intact and kept interests that don’t concern him. I know that I can’t only be a mom or my life really will end when he’s gone.I don't do that. All of my time is invested, wrapped up, intertwined in the health and happiness of everyone else.
I am still figuring out Who I Am and What I Want to Be. I just don't have the luxury anymore of screwing up only myself along the way. Now I have a husband and three kids who are affected by every move I make- or don't make.
Whether or not I finish school.
Whether or not I ever learn to cook.
Whether or not I set the example in my marriage and in my role as Mommy that I want to set.
I have these, what Meredith Grey calls, Dark and Twisty moments. I am not so self-absorbed to think I am alone in these Dark and Twisty times. Everyone has moments of doubt, moments of self-loathing. I know in my heart they are times of spiritual attack, the Enemy wheedling himself into my psyche to convince me I'm of no use to anyone. And most often, I pray (and cry and whine and cry and write) my way out of the dark place. But I come out on the other side still Not Knowing.
I don't know much about who I am as a person. Who Savannah is. (Oh my. I see this going a meta-emo-rambly place, adn that's not where I meant to head.)
I just know what role I play, what hat I wear, what shoes I fill:
And I know what I do:
But which of these roles, which of these activities make up who I am?