This isn’t a mom blog. But it is. Yet it isn’t. Believe it or not, I really am this indecisive!
But let me start by talking about boxes. Not physical boxes. The figurative boxes we put people into. This is really just a mental shortcut, an easy and effortless way to organize the world around us. But it oversimplifies things and misses the details that make all the difference.
Growing up, I was always put into boxes, boxes that were far from accurate. But I went along because I was afraid of revealing my true colors. Of letting people get close. Until college. I remember when I was selecting which one to attend. I was constantly drawn to the material of the one I ultimately chose. There was a student talking about thinking outside the box. Their response? “What box?” I wanted to go there. Then I took it a step further and designed my own major. Yeah, I was done with boxes.
And it was amazing because I took classes in psychology, child development, music, social work, anthropology, political science, English, philosophy, biology, chemistry, mathematics, and history. For my major.
My point is, I don’t want to be in a box and neither does this blog. Sure, the majority of my posts involve being a mom, but that’s not all I write about.
I’m a mom, but I’m also a reader and writer who enjoys baking and thinking about the world. I can’t and won’t separate these parts of myself. Being a mom touches all aspects of my life. Being a reader touches all aspects of my life. Writing has me daydreaming whenever I have a second. I bake with my kids, find recipes in the books I read, and think about the food I write into my stories.
I temporarily lost myself when I first met my husband. I’ll be darned if I let motherhood do that to me again (I don’t curse. It’s just not my thing).
This is a mom blog. It’s a book blog. It’s a writing blog. It’s a food blog. It’s a blog where I can ramble. And, yet, it’s not. It’s me, standing next to a crushed box.
But maybe I should keep the literal boxes for my kids to play in.