Telling Stories

I love a good story, and I love to tell good stories. In theory, I’d love for this blog to be filled with great stories, vignettes of our life.

The trouble is that I have a hard time with finding a balance in these stories. When the kids were small, I sometimes told cute, positive stories about them. I didn’t want to leave a trail of all their worst moments online to embarrass them in the future. But honestly, I felt like that painted an incomplete picture of motherhood and family life, even though I appreciated preserving joyous moments.

Have you ever read a blog and after awhile the perfect husband, the gorgeous, fun children and the mom who cooks and crafts and looks fantastic just make you feel small? Realistically I know everyone has their struggles and demons but when all you see is someone’s best, it can make you feel discontent and unaccomplished.

Lately I have tried to post a little about moving and how we’ve struggled with that. It’s very real, but it’s also somewhat depressing. I’m not fishing for pity, but sometimes it comes off that way. So, I get quieter and I stop telling those stories. Then my blog gets filled with fluff, I get bored, stop blogging and I don’t tell any stories at all.

I feel more compelled than ever to write. I don’t know why, and what will come of it, but I think telling stories here is part of what I need to be doing, for my sanity. So I am going to give it a try (with some fluff mixed in for good measure.) Inevitably, some of them will be sad or a little self indulgent, I hope you won’t mind too much.