Eclectic Muddlehood

How's this for a perplexing beginning? I am a great many things, but none of them are me. At least not in my entirety. This is the little corner where I attempt to make the whole greater than the sum of its parts as I muddle through being a wife, a mother and a woman... among other things.

Location: Virginia, United States

Here, in no particular order, is a short list of my parts from the mundane to the pretentious, some or all of which may surface in future attempts to work on the whole: wife, mother, doula, childbirth educator, writer, yoga student, homeschooler, amature organic gardner, kitchen witch, all-around foodie, spiritual truth-seeker, daughter, clutter-bug, complusive list maker, bibliophile, homemaker, friend, homebirth/natural birth advocate, impulse shopper, wine snob, knitter, artist, lover, sensuist, and email junkie (There may be more later, but that's it for now.)

Saturday, October 21, 2006


I've had a rough few weeks nursing babies with voracious appetites, pacifying a tragically wounded toddler and refereeing verbal jousting matches between my husband and live-in sister. I am exhausted and stressed and my body chose to let me know about it with my first post-pregnancy migraine last night. But all my tears and frustrations melted away when I read on a former client's blog that her husband is leaving her and she is facing single motherhood with a 19 month old son. Remembering the exuberant joy with which she and her husband welcomed their son into the world in their own bed, my heart aches for her. I can only imagine with horror the emotional upheaval she is now dealing with as she processes the loss of her marriage and the inevitable loss of the life she intended to provide her son. One of my worst nightmares is any scenario that results in the loss of my husband. Taking him and all he represents out of my life would be bad enough, but when I think about what I would have to do to survive (a full-time job, a smaller place, daycare, preschool, public school, etc.) I practically have a panic attack. I realized just the other day that I have no plan. I have no idea what I would do if I did end up on my own with three small children. Surprisingly enough, some of my friends do have plans-- even quite detailed ones. I feel like I should make a plan of some sort. And it's got to be better than Nancy's plan on Weeds.