People often ask why I blog and in part, it's because of this. The very thing I'm doing right now. The sharing of stories and memories and sentiments. The journaling and chronicling and taking it all in. Sometimes, while searching for old recipes, I go back and read archived blog posts and think, YES! That day. It happened exactly like that! And I find myself laughing or crying or reading the entry to my children who seem truly fascinated by it all. Because this life, in all its uncertainty and mania and happiness and craziness, is precisely the way it’s supposed to be. It’s really hard to chalk things up to destiny or a grand plan that we are not privy to or even at times, something that we have relinquished control over. And so with that in mind, I try to enjoy that uncertainty and mania and happiness and craziness- even if I’m only able to do so from afar, after it’s already transpired. These posts allow me to relive the moment. To be in it once again which is such a magical gift I think. And most of the time, I’m able to come to it from a completely new perspective. I’m able to appreciate it in part because it’s already done and gone and I’ve moved past whatever it may have been that was troubling me. And I’m still standing. Able to talk about it or laugh about it or just simply take it for what it is. This blog has become the most thrilling documentation of both the mundane and the extraordinary.
And I am so grateful for it all. Truly.
I love weaving real stories about our life into this chit-chat about food. It's important for me to be authentic because years from now, if my children feel inclined to read these stories, I want them to know that it was real.
All of it.
I try not to be too fluffy about my life because my life doesn't often feel very fluffy. It feels hard at times, but mostly good. Most definitely good. I want to be mindful that my children will one day be teenagers with lives of their own and may want to maintain a bit of anonymity. So although I share stories about our life, I try not to get so personal that it might become embarrassing for them. It's hard to be real without being embarrassing.
Real life is embarrassing sometimes.
One of my biggest fears is that I’ll look back and realize that I did a lot of talking but not a lot of living. That I was too irritated or worried to be grateful for the experience of parenting or working or just being. And so for me, this journal gives me permission to be genuine in the most credible way. To share little morsels of my life while still staying true to who I am. That in the quest for happiness, I remember to pause and reflect and simply be happy. With all of the uncertainty and mania and happiness and craziness, I hope that light is still able to shine through.
