"Sometimes I miss the stories. Like on days like today.
Every once in a while I do the ”bloggy” things I used to do all the time; follow the clicks down the rabbit hole, read story after story, pour over images, watch videos, and get inspired. And it reminds me of how much I love stories. Yours, mine, ours. All of them. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to carve out as much time as I used to for them anymore."
These words of author/photographer Tracey Clark echoed loud through my head as I sat staring at what I had just read.
I really miss the stories. It seems that lately "story" has been a big part of our lives here. The word story is constantly bouncing in and out of conversation.
I have a desire to share My Story-Our Story; the Story of Us and all of our beautiful messy chaos. In my heart of hearts I want to share this story of the real Calamity Clan. I want to share those things that drag us down and trip us up. I want to share all of the funny things, sadness, joy and all around daily mayhem but then my brain takes over and all that negative self talk starts: you can't do that, you have no time for such nonsense, no one cares about your blathering, your grammar stinks...
My dear friend Miri recently wrote a story that sent me on a rabbit trail straight down memory lane. I was amazed and slightly embarrassed that my friend had documented more stories about my own children than I did. I thought about all of the stories that were now lost due to my negligence. Shame and guilt stormed their way to the forefront of my emotions; how could I have let those stories slip away?
Every day I share stories with my children of those that have gone before; stories loved by all, stories that someone took the time write down. We are part of The Story. If I don't write our stories, there will be no stories for the next generation.
While I seek to strike a balance between being present-living in the moment-and capturing/recording those moments for another time, I know I will battle with guilt and disappointment. I will wrestle with fear, regret and being overwhelmed. There will be days chock-a-block with frantic busyness and no stories will be told-I have to be OK with that.
I am SO not perfect. I laugh too loud and talk too much. I don't live in a Pinterest perfect home. My kids are sassy. There a huge drifts of dog hair in the corners of every room of our house. There's shouting and laughter and the dishes slide. We are a broken mess but I choose to capture these moments and bits of life. This is the story of me and mine. It is Ugly Beautiful and it is good because it's ours.