Dear Diary, I’m really just a silly girl

Dear Diary.
It’s Friday!

Every day I sit to write down my morning “stream of consciousness,” I think about my diary writing days, when I was young. Actually, I kept a diary on and off until I got married. Every once in awhile, I get my diaries out and read.

Here’s what I learned about myself:

1. I had dreams.

2. I was not as mature in high school as I thought I was, or, I just faked maturity better than some of my peers.

3. I wrote about my first kiss.

4. I wanted to grow up and be a mom.
   
   That last one. The maternal instinct was so strong, I knew that’s what I wanted to be. A mom. And to be honest, now that I’m quasi-empty nest, I’ve looked back and motherhood is a difficult job.
   (And sorry, editor reading this…which is only me…I can’t figure out how to get out of automatic numbering mode.)

   
   No one told me it would be as hard as it was. And is. You think when your baby starts sleeping all night, it will get easier. You do feel a little more human, with more sleep, but so does the child. They grow and develop, challenging you every day with something new. Some new behavior they picked up at the playground or home, a new word, a new way of thinking. Sometimes it’s exciting and sometimes it makes a mom scratch her head and wonder, what do I do now?

   There really is no manual. There are books with ideas, blogs with ideas, experts that agree and disagree. What works for one parent/child combo might not work for the next.
   
   I thought I had it made when we had son number 2. Son number 1 was three years old, and I thought I was on the downside of new things I could learn as a mom of a baby.

   Nope. His personality was different than my first son. So, I kept learning. I probably don’t have to tell you that son number 3, also different.

   That’s only one thing that makes motherhood difficult. It’s not like replicating a cookie recipe and getting the same results.

   It’s exhausting work. And yet, there were days, when the boys would help out a stranger at the grocery store, or help another little human at the park, or talk to a lonely elderly person, and I’d get a glimpse, a hope, that all the time outs, all milk spilled, all the words said, all the fights mitigated, all the bedding washed, all the scratched knees, all the mountains of diapers, all the weary trips to Walmart where a screaming toddler would result in exiting the store, all the tears and weary nights falling into bed, hoping to sleep all night, were somehow worth it.

   That’s it. My time is up. Being a mom is a tough job, and no matter how great my diary says I was going to be at it, that writer had no idea what was in store!

   Well, the hubs and dogs have arisen. The quiet morning blogging time is done.

   And did I mention, this is day 25 of my Facebook fast? I’m not going to lie…(because I just don’t do that, so why is that even a saying?) Being free of feeling like I need to post on Facebook, has been amazing. When/if I return, I’m going to have a better strategy so it doesn’t consume precious hours of my time.

   Your friend,
   Anne Dovel