My entire life I’ve been a “writer“. OK, maybe not always as poetically as that sounds, but even at the tender age of three my mom walked into the living room to discover I had drawn the letterA all over our new “paper chairs”(which were actually white leather chairs). I’ve always loved writing, handwriting ya see, and when I learned to turn those A’s into a string of words that may or may not make sense to anyone but me, I ran with it! Over the years I’ve dabbled in run-on sentences, letters, poems, doodles, scribbles, journaling, meal planning, grocery list making, and a multitude of other forms of “creative” writing (most recently charting as a nurse). And now here I sit with a pen and paper attempting to begin a journey as a blogger? Wait, how do I write that on this virtual notebook? I digress.
I filtered through 1000s of topics in my head trying to narrow down what I want to lend to the world, pieces of advice? OK. Mommy frustrations? Sure. Wife complications? Why not. Nursey-ness? Of course. I figure I’ll practice a bit of journaling of sorts, and see where this takes me. I’ve always found that writing about what’s in my head, good, bad or indifferent has been very cleansing for me. Hopefully some of y’all will be able to relate to some of what I’ll have to say. If not that’s fine too.
So a little about me… I am Amy, a wife of a city police officer, a mother to a 15-year-old daughter who loves to run and an 11-year-old soccer/basketball/runner girl, a dog mom of my little Corbin, a nurse, a friend, a daughter, a woman. I think this is where I say something like “in my spare time I like to …” but ha ha! Spare time? Nah. It’s cliché to say there’s no spare time these days, so I’ll do you the favor and admit that I am the mom that joins other moms “complaining” about being so busy, when the reality is I’m so busy being busy on purpose. It’s laughable to think I’d want it any other way. I signed up for activities and conferences and pay hundreds, if not thousands to afford my daughters positions on various sports teams. Every time my husband sends me a text saying “I just sent off another check for X dollars for soccer” I reply “it’s worth every penny ” because I ❤️ it more than I ❤️ complaining about being busy. So why don’t I stop complaining to people and just delight in the beauty of being blessed enough to do these things?
It’s almost a social faux pas to be happy with your life sometimes. It’s so odd and just when I thought I’d grown up, I find that if I’m not careful I’m sucked right into the trenches of negativity in an attempt (subconsciously) to fit in?! It never ends, when you’re a kid you try to fit in or you learn to be OK with being different, and as an adult it’s the same thing sometimes isn’t it?
The truly crazy thing is that as I sit here writing about how I don’t want to be that, how I really am OK with being this woman, this wife, this mom, this friend, this daughter, inevitably I’ll be sitting across a fire pit in a camp chair, in my driveway relating to another mom about how we are just too busy all the time. I’m a problem. It’s OK, I’ll get better.
So what do you think? Can you relate? Is it only me who gets uncomfortable about being too happy or too grateful? Please share a story of yours with me. I’m dying to hear it! I hope you’ve enjoyed your time with me and that you’ll stop back in to see what other things may spill from this “pen”.
OopsThere'sInkOnThisPaper 
I am looking forward to reading more from you!
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