Wasted Time

Wasted Time

I’ll preface all of this by saying that I understand that no time should be considered wasted time. Except for standing in line for service. That is definitely wasted time. However, I find myself considering how much I really wasted time pre-kid. Why did I think I was so busy?

Now I have to cram so much into so little time. There is the obvious stuff that I am not going to waste energy on – cooking, cleaning, etc. But I mean more like the luxurious stuff – the binging on Netflix kind of stuff. I remember when that kind of day would be considered a wasted day.

I was given an opportunity to have a Netflix (okay, Hulu but that doesn’t sound as good here) and chill night tonight. I’m in NYC for work and had planned to go see an art installation when my conference session was over. As soon as we were wrapping up it started pouring outside. It didn’t let up and I wasn’t in the mood to get wet. After a little bit of mourning I decided to embrace it. I ordered room service, pulled up my Hulu account and binged on “The Handmaid’s Tail.”

Its relaxing and freeing. I don’t have anything to worry about. And yet, about every 10 minutes or so, my mind kind of freaks out. “You should be….” What? I should be doing what exactly? Its hard to stop the mind when it is in a habit of thinking of the exact next thing you need to be doing.

There is no real moral to what I am writing. I’m just trying to quiet the mind and the heart. I am not wasting time tonight. I am enjoying a freedom that is few and far between.

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Imposter…

Imposter…

In three days I have a deadline for my first article for Twin Cities Moms Blog. I’ve written and re-written articles in fear that they are not good enough. I feel like an imposter. Like what I have to share really isn’t all that valuable to anyone.

I had brunch with friends on Sunday morning. We commiserated about life; children not sleeping, children not listening, daycare, etc. I realized that we were helping each other by listening and nodding and acknowledging. While we tried offering advice it was probably more useful that we just acknowledged the emotions of the situation and that we had been in similar ones too. It feels good to know that you are not alone. It feels good to know that people you love and respect have gotten through it.

You can’t be an imposter in your own life and experience. I guess that is the important thing to remember here. Sharing my experience is real and real experiences are what matter.headinhand

I’m blogging. I’m really blogging.

I’m blogging. I’m really blogging.

The inaugural post. I feel like I should have something profound to say. I don’t.

This is a step I’ve wanted to take for a long time. Words have floated through my mind day after day without a place to go. I’m so caught up in my own perfection that I was afraid to go here. I had to be perfect to start a blog. Why would anyone want to read what I am thinking? What if I make a fool of myself by spelling something wrong or using incorrect grammar?IMG_8102

So here goes nothing. I’m taking the step. I’m not perfect. I may make mistakes. That is okay. This is a work of love. A creative outlet. A growth opportunity. I don’t have to be perfect.

The thing is, my  story isn’t terribly unique. I don’t know if what I have to say is necessarily worth sharing. I guess I just want people to feel like someone else is experiencing what they are experiencing. That you read my posts, nod your head and say, “Me too!”