Look…here’s the deal…I’m in the middle of a mid-life crisis. In like a dozen areas of my life. I’m just going to be honest here and tell you guys that I feel like I’m failing all over the place.
If you’ve been reading very long, you know that the hubs and I used to renovate houses. Like for profit. Like to flip or to turn around and rent. And then we stayed in our last house for three years and somehow we lost some steam.
So then we bought this house and had plans to renovate it; but for ourselves, so there’s no looming timeline or money wrapped up that we need to hurry and recoup. Turns out that when you aren’t waiting to get your investment back and pocket some profit, you aren’t that in a hurry.
The fact that this blog started right in the midst of that slow down only adds to my feeling like a failure. I wish it was like a TV show. All the pretty stuff is completely finished in 30 minutes. Ta-da!
Back in the day, my kids were little and it seemed like they would be for a thousand years. Working every evening and all weekend long wasn’t that big of a deal. They just played with their toys right along side and everyone was happy. (Not to mention that I wasn’t yet homeschooling three grades and had more free time throughout every day.) These days, we rarely do any work on the house in the evenings. By time we have dinner and take a walk and spend a bit of family time, it’s time for the hubs to get in bed. So that leaves weekends. Most of you guys probably have kids. How many weekends are really free? Free to work on the house? Exactly.
So here we are. Realizing that life is short and our kids aren’t tiny and they’ll be leaving home in the blink of an eye. As much as my mind keeps telling me that I need to get some work done, my heart is telling me to spend time with my babies.
Take away evenings and many Saturdays and before you know it, a summer bathroom renovation has extended all the way through fall and winter and now into spring. Whew. Talk about failing. And for all of the internet (or at least my little corner of it) to see.
But you know what? I’m not going to look back in 20 years and wish I had worked faster on the house. Or been better about blogging. You know what I will look back and remember? I’ll hear my sweet baby saying, “Momma will you play trains with me?” and I’ll cry myself to sleep at night thinking of all the times I said, “I can’t right now sweetie, I have to finish painting this…I’m almost finished sewing this skirt I don’t even need…let me build this bench first…go ask your brothers.”
Besides all that, blogging is sometimes stressful to me. Remember back before the entire world had cameras on their phones? Remember how you would worry so much about documenting the party/event/game/play that you couldn’t even enjoy it? It was always so much pressure to be the one in charge of taking pictures. I gotta say, I kinda feel the same about blogging. I love it. But it’s a lot of extra pressure. Sometimes I’m like, “I could run in there and get that backsplash ready to tile in 15 minutes.” And then I think, “but it would be 30 if I take pics and then another hour to sort through them and upload them and resize them and another hour or more to type up a post.” So then I’m paralyzed and I just get on Facebook instead.
I love the DIY process as much as the end results, but constantly worrying about whether I need to make a blog post or not is making the entire journey dreadful.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I realize I’m failing as a blogger. I know that I’ve had one post in two weeks. We’ve been out of town with friends and family for the past two weekends and we’ve been spending the evenings at the park or walking the neighborhood or just sitting on our butts watching basketball. That’s allowed every now and then, I hear. So judge me if you want. Make fun of how ridiculously slow we are at everything we start. Laugh at the thought that we ever renovated entire houses in 12 weeks with no contractors while working day jobs.
I wish I could say I don’t care. But I do care. I want to be good at blogging. I want to be perfect at every area of my life. Turns out that I just can’t.