It's been too quiet here. I never intend to lapse into such long blogging silences. The things that weigh heaviest on my heart, though, are not topics I care to discuss in such an open, pubic forum, so instead I say nothing at all but lose, in the process, a record of all the other little happy things that should rightly have mention here. I just spent some time looking through my archives, alternately laughing and tearing up a bit at the joys and struggles I've shared here in the nearly six years since starting my blog. I'm so glad I have those posts to look back on, while on the other hand, I find myself in such an unfamiliar, transitional period of my growing family's life right now that it's more difficult to discern what is or is not appropriate to share here. As my children grow older I find more and more often that I'd rather not risk violating their privacy by sharing intimate details of our happiness or heartaches.
One thing I was particularly struck by while reading through old entries was how comparably easy my life used to be. I never would have imagined it then, but I can say for sure now that having only babies, toddlers, and pre-schoolers, while busy, was infinitely less troublesome than this mix of big, little, and in- betweens I have now. Conflicts are frequent, loud, and emotional. Feelings are hurt on a daily basis. My level of anxiety, having always tended towards the high side, is through the roof far too often these days. I'm on edge, stressed out, irritable, and overwhelmed by a number of things (big and small) over which, in some cases, I have no control...and no means to control in other instances. I'm seriously considering the need for pharmacological intervention (for myself or one of my children. Or both.).
I think there is a natural human tendency to want what we don't have. And I don't want much, really. But what I do miss is weekends with my family. Time spent with my children not yelling or fighting. Reading to them on the couch. Knowing what they're learning every day. A semblance of order about our house. My mom living here in town. A natural liturgical rhythm observed with celebrations and traditions. Feeling at the end of the day that I've done a good job of fulfilling my vocation. I miss having an identity with which I felt comfortable. Gradual changes in our family life have necessitated a shift in my role and, consequently, in how I identify myself. For the most part, I feel like an impostor. No longer am I the homeschooling mother I was for years. Austin is the oldest toddler I've ever had without having another little one on the way, but there are no more babies in our foreseeable future, so neither am I the pregnant mama I loved being. (Thank goodness I can still be, for a while longer, the nursing mama!) As my children grow older and more independent, though, I am slowly reclaiming my individuality, but far from being liberating or exciting, it is, more accurately, often lonely and more than a little scary.
I don't really know where I'm heading or what the future will bring, so in the mean time I'll just keep loving on my honey and our babies. (And eating lots of chocolate. And drinking lots of coffee.) And trying to figure out this new me I'm becoming.
And, as ever, I will place my trust in the only One who knows all of my worries and fears.
