Photo Credit: Bushman.K via Compfight cc

What am I about? What is my manifesto? In some ways, the post I published this morning (and incidentally wrote weeks ago) says it best. I want to be honest. About my faith, about my parenting, about the joys and difficulties I’ve encountered in my life. Because being a mom, wonderful as it is, isn’t the glory it appears from the outside, at least not for me. The laundry, both clean and dirty are often piling up, there as are many arguments as there are hugs. But I’m not just a mom, I’m also a writer. So somehow in the daily crazy that steals my brain cells and makes me wonder how I ever managed to string more than three words together, let alone write a book.

When I first became a mom I discovered that the internet was a wonderful and terrible place for parents. Because you can sometimes find the answers to your questions, and other times just more of the same question with some or a dozen different solutions. I decided I didn’t have to have all the answers. Yes, I still give tips, advice but I wanted to focus on encouragement. I love providing solutions when I can. (Thus my great love for review and comparison posts on topics I feel passionate about. If you see a review post, it’s probably because I couldn’t find one I liked when I was doing my own research).

I’ve fought hard since my daughter was nine months old to make sure I didn’t give over my entire identity to motherhood. While I believe it to be a holy calling, it isn’t all that I am. Two kids later, for a total of three, I’ve gone through varying periods of success on that front.

I’ve read the accusations that the internet leads to dangerous levels of oversharing. I concede to this. But I also know that I want to build community where we can be ourselves and talk about the hard things. Because I’ve had those things in my life: depression, miscarriage, hard to handle kids. Faith testing kinds of events. There has been enough silence and shame on those topics and I won’t be part of it anymore.

I called my blog the Laundry List because that’s how I felt about the life; a list of things to do, but also what I am. I cannot be defined by a single title: Mother or Writer. Neither can any of us. We need room to explore who we are and who we might be.