Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Living authentically as an artsy mom.

Originally posted on www.cominguprosemary.com on 7.13.08.

I just put my little one down for her nap. As I held her in my arms while we were walking up the stairs, my tired child wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder. There are absolutely no words to describe how good that feels. There is a little creature in a little bed in a little room upstairs, and she has my heart.

I spent most of my pregnancy filled with anxiety and fear that I would not be a good mom. It was a very difficult time for me and I am fortunate that the day she was born, confidence was born within me. In an instant, I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl. Every single day for the past 2+ years, my confidence, my love for her, and my hopes for her have grown.

I think a lot about the kind of mom I am, the kind of mom I want to be, and what I can and can’t do to affect the way Rosemary perceives me. I want her to think of me as fun, creative, as a woman who loves God and shares that love with others in compassion. I want her to know how much I love her.

Sometimes I struggle with how much there is going on in my life. I am a mother, daughter, sister, and wife. I work full time, live in and help to maintain a one-hundred-year-old house, garden, attempt to create, have a mild social life, regularly participate in church, keep closely connected with my own family and my husband’s family, and really that list could go on. It’s a story familiar with almost all of us, I’m sure. When we spread ourselves so thin, it’s easy to lose the idea of who we are in the first place. What was it about ourselves that got us so involved in all these things to begin with?

That is how this blog came about. I needed a home-base. A place to show, a place to try, a place to dream, and a place to record. Holding all this stuff in my head was starting to make me sick. There are so many people and things I could possibly be an example to. When I look at my daughter, someone who takes after me in so many ways, I am daily reminded of what that means. For her, it is important that I know who I am, that I am authentic. It is important that I take care of myself in order to take better care of her.

It’s important that when she tells me, as she so often does, “I’m happy, mommy,” that I truly mean it when I respond, “I’m happy, too.”

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