I've hit my stride with motherhood. It's taken almost ten and a half months, but I'm there. I wish I could ease into it with you fine folks, the people who like the way I smoosh words together to tell my stories, but there you have it. It took me almost a year, and so far the goal of ZERO CASUALTIES is still at a 100% success rate, and I've got the hang of this motherhood thing.
Which, of course, means it's time to start telling the stories again. Except, where I used to be an interesting person who had an interesting job and whose life was full of interesting stories... Now I mostly worry about things I can't possibly expect anyone else to care about. I worry about how long it's taking us to get the mulch situation sorted out in the front flower beds. I worry about the pile of rocks in the unlivable back yard, because I'm sure it's harboring a bazillion black widow spiders (it's not). I worry about the last time everyone in this family pooped (motherhood, as it turns out, has a lot to do with how much and how often everyone is sleeping and pooping, and honestly it really always boils down to: not enough, on all counts). (Except Bogart. It should surprise no one that the SFB dog is full to the brim with S.)
I could tell you about composting, because we do that now, but do you really want to hear about my rotting food scraps? I could tell you about the five long days when we gave up sugar (so, bread) and I ate literally everything else we had in the house because apparently I'm a hungry, hungry hippo... but do you really want to hear about my binge-eating kale? These are the things I had to ask myself, and then give myself honest answers about when I had the hard talk with myself about why I'm not writing anymore.
It distills down to this: I've hit my stride with motherhood, but that means I'm very busy being a mother. I know my kid is pretty cute, but I don't expect you guys to want to hear about her nearly as much as I'm willing to talk about her. I've also found that where I used to have lots of time to sit and process my thoughts and organize them and then type it all up in lovely, fancy, clever anecdotes... Now I spend my free time trying to remember the last time I showered and where I put the remote and what the name was of that thing I wanted to watch with that actress I liked. No, not that actress. The other one.
My life is a lot more visual now. Not just in the super-photogenic-kid sense. Nora knows how to crawl, and she's learning (fast, dear Lord save us all, so quickly) how to walk. And by walk I do, in fact, mean sprint as fast as her chubby little legs can carry her. If I take my eyes off her for even a second she's grabbed a power strip and a bowl of dog water and she's halfway up the stairs while chewing on marbles. This is why my brain is Jell-O. This is why I can't remember the name of the show with the actress I like that I wanted to watch. This is why I'm stealing ten minutes at 11pm on a Sunday night to write all this down.
My life now, it's not captured in language the way it used to be. It's not a series of four-course meals prepared lovingly over the course of a quiet afternoon at home with one dog. My life now is a series of fast snapshots that I take before I toss my phone under the couch or into the fruit bowl or to the bottom of the diaper bag while I focus on the all-consuming, heart-filling, life-affirming task of being Nora's mother.
What does that mean for this website? Well, it means shorter stories, probably. It will likely mean more pictures. It might also mean a little posting irregularity. I'm going to shoot to post at least twice a week (something about life and something focused on food), but every time I start to find a routine, something inevitably happens to derail everything. Twice a week is ideal. Bare with me... I've gotten my bearings as a mother, but I'm still sorting myself out as a writer.
And it also means a new food journey. I'm going to get more into specifics on the 160 in 365 section of this site, but Nora is big into finger foods now and is developing what I hope will be a winning palate. Every day with her is an adventure, and meals are especially delightful. That's going to be a big part of this journey because keeping us all fed is a huge part of my life, from a passion and an energy and a time consideration.
And that's it. For now. For tonight. I have dishes to put away and dishes to put into the dishwasher and cookbooks to read and a grocery list to write. There are carrots to peel and soup bones to thaw and eventually I'm going to have to sort out what James is taking for lunch tomorrow. But first, a hot cup of water and ginger. A few more pages of My Kitchen Year. Notes for my next post. Some peace and quiet.
Hi, friends. I am back. Lovely to see you again.