THE REALIST + THE OPTIMIST

Photo: blurry love via an Instagram

So sometimes I find myself stuck between a rock and hard place when writing. How honest should I be? How optimistic can I be? Because I am an optimist. Literally, I feel this rush whenever I choose to think positively when odds are against me (someone really smart could probably explain that scientifically – endorphins, maybe?) Call it positive energy, I like it. I always have!

Flipside: I love telling the truth. Especially here. When I’m honest about me as a person and a mother, what I’m going through, what I love, who I love (Ryan and Olivia!), and what I believe, I feel a relief. That’s why half of January’s posts were about being sick and how I hate it. I had to tell you what’s really up: life gets so down. 

Don’t know why I’ve been bursting to say that, but I have been. Just trust that when you stop by here, you’re getting the real me. I’m a realist and an optimist. I will tell you that motherhood can be rough and sometimes I struggle. But I tell you, mothering makes for a beautiful life. 

I mean, when your daughter throws her arms in the air, cheering and cheering, just because you walked through the door – holy! Or when she instantly worries when you’re crying and runs over, throws herself on your lap, smiles up at you through your tears and says, “Mama?? Hi!!” And when you’re in the middle of a down-dog and she down-dogs right next to you, oh so earnestly trying to be like mama – seriously? When she kisses you back, looks in your eye, and really listens to you pour out your thoughts and hopes – honestly. 

Honestly. That’s mothering…to be so loved. And love it.