Testing 1-2-3

My name is Mara, and I'm an errant blogger.

I am returning to the blogging world for two reasons. First, I have finally realized that no matter how many different things I aspire to do, I am limited in my abilities. For example, I will never be a human pretzel (see Dan, below). While Dan may have spent countless hours perfecting this position (what is this position, anyway?), I have neither the upper body strength nor the pelvic flexibility for such antics. So I'll leave Dan to his wondrous posturing and I'll focus on my own strengths, which I have reduced to namely two things: mothering and writing. 

I believe that our strengths are really just our passions magnified. I have no desire to be a Dan (no offense, Dan...btw, next photo shoot, please comb your hair), but I do desire to be a mother, and I very much love to write.

Which brings me to the second reason I am returning to blogging: When I'm dead and gone, I want my family to know what it meant to me to be family. These four faces below each exemplify a different perspective on the greater whole of our family unit. My design is simply to tell our family story in the hopes that one day they will look at each other and say, "We had an amazing childhood, did we not?" (Or something akin to a light bulb moment when their hearts swell with humility, gratitude and wonderment.)

I've titled this new blog attempt, "Mom in the Middle," because I am indeed in the throes of the middle years of mothering. Parenthood is really not much more than a blip on the radar of the lives of our children (18ish years is nothing in the grand scheme of eternity; that's assuming we have no boomerangers who show up on our doorstep at 25 with a spouse and three kids and a desire to further their education or get in touch with their inner yogi...and oh by the way Mom, can you watch the kids for the next six years?).

My oldest daughter is 14 years old and my youngest is nine. This leaves me with just less than four years of full-time mothering all four children, and only nine years before the nest is bare. My anatomical clock is ticking in a new way; they will not be here for long.

So I'll leave the spots in the carpet, the dents in the walls, the yard work to resemble a "before" picture at a Home Depot display for weed killer. I'll wait to try my hand at scuba diving, vegan cooking or macrame (okay, so I did try macrame at age nine and it did not end well for me or the rope).

My interests continually migrate toward the amazing quirks, progress and individuality of my four growing children, and I commit with renewed passion to write my way timelessly into their hearts and memories.