Yesterday I read this post by one of my favorite mommy bloggers and personal idols, The Young Mommy Life. In the post, she talks about how she sometimes gets jealous of other bloggers and their opportunities.
This is from a woman who works her butt off to make a living off her blog and writing, is a whiz at social media, (for real, also part of her job, she’s a legit social media consultant for companies) and is making a HUGE difference in the lives of young moms everywhere. Oh, and then there’s the small fact that she has like 3,000 fans on Facebook and more page views than I could dream of.
Do I sound jealous?
The truth is, I am feeling discouraged about my blog and my writing in general. I know my blog needs some serious professional design help, but I feel like I can’t afford that. Social media? What’s that? I am a failure at the technical side of websites and whatnot, and I still have yet to figure out #howthehecktousetwitter. I would love to reach out to more young moms, but I feel a little bit like a creepy online stalker trying to find them.
I’m scared that my book will be a big flop because I’m not doing an amazing job like some of the bloggers out there. There’s always someone, some other site that just blows me away and I think, Why can’t I be like that? How do these people take amazing pictures and have money-making ads and lead fabulous lives that people are interested in?
The other day, someone told me I was making this three kid thing “look easy.”
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
Because you know the truth? I’m terrified for fall, when my mom and husband go back to school and I am left alone again with three kids. Three kids who have no sense of routine left from having their dad home more and a new baby in the house. Kids who scream and scream for hours at bedtime. I’m scared to be isolated again. Even if I don’t always see my mom or my husband is gone mowing lawns, I know they are there. They are not at work, completely unreachable while I’m at home. Not working. It’s a weird distinction, but there it is.
I make this look easy?
Folks, yesterday, I spent the entire morning without a shirt on because I couldn’t find five minutes to go down in the basement and switch the laundry to dry the ONE shirt I have that fits me. Jacob nurses approximately every 0.2 seconds anyways, so I just didn’t even bother.
Yesterday, Ben and I had a “discussion” about money. He may or may not have brought up the fact that I spent a good chunk of change going to New York for a blogging conference. That unleashed the torrent of self-doubt I had been fighting since I read the YML’s post that morning. Of course he was right, I thought. What a waste of money. I’m pretending I know what I’m doing with writing and blogging.
And then I made the mistake of installing some plug-in on my blog that gave me more accurate statistics. It tells me stuff like how long it takes my site to load and how many people leave the site in less than 1 second. My stats apparently suck and suck really bad, respectively.
As I sat on our patio table last night, (which, incidentally, had cracked that day too…) feeling awesome about myself, something totally unexpected happened, something that completely changed my perspective, as if God Himself had reached down and placed an earth-shattering sign in front of me.
I got pooped on.
A bird flying over our house as we enjoyed our family dinner in the lovely waning summer weather had the audacity to poop on my shoulder.
As I took a bite of the delicious golden summer corn we had planted and harvested, a disgusting starling squawked overheard and deposited a big ol’ pile of black and white bird shit on my shoulder.
Morale of the story?
Don’t sit around and feel sorry for yourself.
You might get pooped on.