Homemaking is not my strength: Letter #1

Letter #1 Homemaking is not my strength.

Dear 30 year old self-

I have a confession... homemaking is not my strength.  The dishes pile up in my sink, I forget to make my bed, and I absolutely HATE putting away laundry.  In fact, it takes every ounce of energy to remember to do these things. I would much rather play with Little man. read something interesting, get messy in my art journal, blog, be outside, create something, paint, and pretty much anything else there is to do besides spend the afternoon cleaning floors and folding laundry.

I didn't grow up in what some may think of as a "typical Mormon" home where the house was spotless and there was a plate of cookies and fresh baked bread waiting right as you walked through the door from school. (exaggerated I know- but that is how I envisioned other families to be like)

My mom grew up in a culture where there was hired help to cook, clean, drive, run errands, and garden. I often fantasize what that may be like... but at 30 years old- snap out of it...my entourage of hired help are not knocking at my door anytime soon.

It's time to find the JOY IN HOMEMAKING. 

So to be totally serious about this qwest... I am taking the summer off from work and am on a mission to see if there is really indeed joy in homemaking and hopefully find that balance in my life I have been looking for! 

Wish me luck!

Sincerly, 

The deprived homemaker in you

Side note: 

This letter comes from an "ah ha" moment I recently had when I attended Womens' Conference at BYU a few months ago. It is a conference for women with several different topics. I had only signed up for one day due to a conflict of wanting to attend a play therapy conference instead. 

However, the Lord had other plans for me.  

 It was the final speaker of the day and I had this impression that I should get up and buy my ticket for the next day. "But why?" I thought- I am not planning on attending. And then the same thought came to me again...so, I immediately got up crawling over people and chairs to make my way to the exit.  Needless to say, I bought my ticket for the next day. Then, I told God- "Okay if there is something I need to hear please help me choose and find my way to those classes." 

 Let me just say- I needed to be there. 

It was then that I made the decision to take another thing off my plate and take care of my home.

Besitos, xo

Healing.

 It's always amazes me when people feel the need to keep miscarriages a secret or pretend as if nothing happened. Like as if they aren't supposed to acknowledge that they had a living person (part of them)  growing inside of them. As if they just didn't spend months mentally imagining what this person would be like- what they would feel like- what name you would give them- and they just expect to just carry on with normal conversations and daily life as normal.
 But normal?
 I am not sure what that is anymore.
 At times I feel numb. Other times I feel emotional. Other times I feel the need to crack jokes and laugh.

Yesterday I was chasing little man in the kitchen and he squealed and giggled as I tried to catch him. The sound of his laughter was music to my ears. It was refreshing and reminded me of the love I have for him and being a mother. I am so lucky. Then, that feeling of gratitude quickly disappeared as part of me felt guilty for feeling such great joy. Like it felt weird to laugh or smile or engage in a fun activity.

What is the deal with that? I am supposed to feel all those things so why would I feel guilt?  I think there is a notion that grief is something that begins and then ends. We go through one stage and on to the next never to return to the previous stage. Sadly, in my experience- the stages of grief can be repeated over and over in different variations and levels and sometimes forever.  It doesn't just go away magically one day. They come in waves. It just get's easier to cope with the pain- to find the wishes among the weeds.

I know this experience has forever changed me. I am not the person I was last week. I have an even clearer perspective. I have yet another reminder of how precious and fragile life is.

 I am stronger.

My art journal has had a lot of love lately.

Additionally,  I came upon this soul collage below that I had stuck in my art journal a few weeks ago. It was one that I created while I was at work with a teenage client who was working on her soul collage while I rummaged through images looking for things I was attracted to and glued them on a page.(I like to be doing art along with my client so they feel comfortable and they don't as I am judging their work) :) I was surpised how much I had "home" and "family" on the brain.

Looking back now with different eyes- I see heaven on earth. I see a family with two kids- one of them being a girl. I always dreamed to have a girl one day as well. I had secretly thought I was having a girl... maybe one day I will.

It is not happening right NOW for me. But one day I pray it will.
 I know there is a time and reason when one day I will understand.

Thank you for your sweet words, prayers, and goodies.
I am truly blessed.

P.S. I forced myself to get dressed, straighten my hair, and even slap on some red lipstick if nothing else. It fealt good. I took some photos and had good conversation with friends. I even had a friend who came over and helped me plan my healing garden... can't wait to share that with you.

One step in front of the other.
besitos,
xoxo