tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-67786995111487075962008-05-15T02:14:00.000-07:002008-12-09T07:27:11.294-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCwD95cCUdI/AAAAAAAAB8M/yLVkGZVafqk/s1600-h/62_aDSC_0149.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCwD95cCUdI/AAAAAAAAB8M/yLVkGZVafqk/s200/62_aDSC_0149.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200536031631397330" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2007/09/mothers-brain-cracked-open.html">Motherhood </a>gets in my way.<br /><br />It's the biggest obstacle I've ever faced as a productive, independent woman. In the past, I've never let a single person or an idea prevent me from passing, from going through, going forward.<br /><br />Ask me what I want now and I may not know. I want everything. And nothing. I want to do it all and nothing at all.<br /><br />I want time for me. Time for the family. Time to get things done around the house.<br /><br />I want to go places. Stay home. Stay in bed. Watch my girls run and play, freely.<br /><br />I want to plan menus for the week, and get the groceries, all without missing a beat of "me time" or "family time."<br /><br />I want to be at home, alone, and feel the comfort of my house without the screaming and the crying and the tugging on my legs. But I don't want to miss out on what happens when they go, wherever they go.<br /><br />I want to exercise. I want to read. I want to run. I want to drink a glass of wine. I want to write.<br /><br />I want to start scraping wallpaper off where a toddler tore it off. I want to tape that long piece back on and call it a day because, really, where would that fit in my day?<br /><br />I want to eat as a family. I want to eat as a woman, as a wife, with two hands, with easy conversation, with music playing. I want to share traditional family meals.<br /><br />I want to nap. I want to get work done. I want to shop. I want to sit and read magazines.<br /><br />I want to upload photos and create new digital pages reflecting my daughters' growth. I want to sit and create different pages with my hands, with scissors, with love -- not with a mouse and a keyboard.<br /><br />I want to be more organized and yet I can't keep up with the toys, the shredded paper, the wet clothes soaked in milk.<br /><br />Maybe <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/05/catching-shooting-star.html">someday </a>I'll get out of my own way.<br /><br />I never knew I'd become my biggest obstacle, yet.<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8696496724271056053-6778699511148707596?l=www.letterstomydaughters.com'/></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.com21