Finding the way

Life as a newly-wed step-mom is both gloriously and overwhelmingly schizophrenic.

Two-thirds of the time my love and I are newly-weds: The giggling romance of never wanting to be apart, the clumsy problem solving, learning each other's moods and patterns, the glorious moments of waking up to smiles of recognition "it's another day being married to you".

The other third of the time I am a mother to 2 wonderful children: #1 is a 10 year old boy; funny, kind, sensitive, creative, and alive to the possibilities of the world. #2 is a 7 year old girl; bright, sweet, artistic, snuggly and as stubborn as an ox.

Time with them is as magical and difficult as all parents have led me to believe. The smiles on their faces when they run to me outside school, the questions about life during quiet moments, the sneaking of a little hand inside mine (from either one of them) when I least expect it, the glorying in new routines that belong to 'our family'... all these are way more precious than gold. The bickering and whining, the poking and blaming, these all come with the territory, what's hardest is trying to overcome the feelings that I have to have everything sorted. Now.

I continue to be surprised at how exhausting all these new ways of being are. Then I raise my eyes at myself, ruffle my own hair, and remind myself "of course..."

Predictability

So I go and see a film of a book of a blog of a book, about women finding their loves of words and men and food... a brilliantly written screenplay to boot... and come home inspired to write.

"I am a writer" says Amy Adams/Julie at the end of the film.

I feel like I've wasted this year, in terms of writing. Yes I've done bits - a few things for magazines and studies, but I've lost the art of just putting my thoughts into words. And, when I go back and read old blogs - as I did when I opened the laptop this evening - I realise that I AM good at it.

I am a writer.

I need to throw off the fear. Throw off the procrastination. Throw of the inertial caused by the many and heavy stresses life seems to throw me, and write.

So I promise myself. This blog will live. The other, my older and more public one, may morph a little, but this will be my home. And on it will grow my words.

New Year

So one of the main byproducts of moving to a foreign land was the complete desertion of my muse.  It just upped and left without so much as a by or leave.  Rude, frankly.

Well the new year has seen it creeping back slowly.  My heart seems to be less restless and my mind waking me with thoughts of writing.

Who knows... this blog might yet become something worthwhile.