Finding the outlet

I've had a lot of trouble with my creativity lately. I shut it away. I've grieved and released the emotions.

But creativity still won't flow. I keep trying to tell myself the only way to work through writer's block is to write through it - work it right out of my system with some crappy posts before genius strikes again. That's what I've done in the past. It's what I should have done this time; maybe that's what I'm doing now. I have no idea, because that's how my writer's block works ... I write and write and write until the words finally make sense and the sun peeks through the clouds.

Instead of doing that for the last two weeks, I've been moody - actually, if I'm being honest with you, I've been a miserable, short tempered bitch.

Everything happens with purpose

There are times when I feel like I've failed.

This failure, though, is not a Mommy Fail or even from the "I didn't bother to vacuum and the dog is shedding" aspect of my life.

This is about failing to listen to instinct, pushing aside the nagging sixth sense and then wondering why the hell I did because it's made it harder to handle the punch to the gut reaction when the bad news filters in. It's also about knowing there's nothing I could have done, because when your time here is up and you've been called home, the only thing left to do is pray you arrive safely where you're supposed to go and are held tightly until your soul is selected to come back here again. I guess, in all, the failure to listen is also the success of accepting those things I cannot change. But it still hurts.

Let me just speak plainly, the way you all have come to know I will: It fucking sucks.

I talked quite some time ago about getting these "feelings" and my whole breakdown with hearing people talking and not seeing anyone ... or seeing people walk past the doors and windows in my house and there being no one there.

Bring on the pyromania

If it had been a telemarketer, I likely would have let loose some naughty words. But when the telephone rings at 7:30 a.m. and it's the guy who's going to come fix your chimney?

Here, let me wipe the sleep out of my eyes and refrain from yawning while I verbally kiss the ground beneath your feet.

And I totally would have if it weren't for the fact he then said, "And you might want to bump the heat up and let it run for a while, 'cause the guys are gonna have to shut the furnace down."

Commence the 2014 Realty Experiment

Third week into the new year and I'm already falling behind on this writing thing. What is your problem, Miranda!?

Overload. Complete and total overload.

It really started back before Thanksgiving with a pie fundraiser I helped with at our church, and then rolled right into Christmas and trying to settle into 2014 without resolutions I knew I wouldn't keep. Oh, and I tied into some hardcore menu planning and budgeting strategy - things I have only mildly attempted in the past.

All of that combined with the thought and energy that went into my last post kind of left me empty. And the weather has been shitty so I haven't done anything extraordinary with the kids, who are usually the fodder for this space on the Interwebs.

Let's all rejoice with a collective *sigh*.

Giving credit to the daddy movement

Dads. At home. Stay-at-home dads.

I'm pretty sure I've seen some of them at the gym. They're like a mythical creature to me - I believe in my heart of hearts they do exist, but I've yet to have the opportunity to walk up and introduce myself to one. No, that's not true. I'm fairly certain I know at least one.

That's one more than I knew last year.

When my friend Matt asked me about my thoughts on this whole gender role shift phenomenon I decided I needed to do a little reading because despite how awesome I think the SAHD deal is, I know little about it. With the exception of a Facebook group I'm in, there are relatively few dads I know of who are home full-time with their children, whether that means they work nights, are laid off, have made the conscious decision not to work because of finances doesn't matter.

What matters? They made a decision that was the best decision for their family. They're taking on an active role with their kids. No, this isn't something new by any means, nor am I attempting to make it sound like it's a virgin concept that fathers spend quality time with their children. Dads the world over have taken notice of their children or opted to spend more time with them for years, decades, maybe even centuries. We really don't know. The idea this is a trending concept is a little misleading ... it's only trending because the media has shone its spotlight on the concept and that is mostly just in the last 12 months, or so I gather from my handy dandy Google search.

Let me get to the heart of this: The Atlantic piece I read about this very topic thorough irritated me and is not worth the Internet it's printed on; all hail Chris Routly & Co. (I don't know and haven't read stuff by all daddy bloggers or met a lot of SAHDs, so I'm lumping you all together just like us SAHMs usually are).

A toast to you ... and me

Welcome, 2014. I guarantee I have some good things in store for you this year.

Less nervous breakdown, more deep breaths.

Less self hatred, more devotion - to myself, my children, my husband.

Less grieving things I cannot change, more grasping what the future holds.

2014, you better man up because I'm about to rock your world.