I have a journal that was gifted to me when I was pregnant. The concept is that you document everyday motherhood — one happy thought, sentence, sentiment, memory every single day.
It’s a wonderful journal, but when I think about it, I feel like a failure. I miss documenting a lot of days — lately, most days. My go-to entry on days that I forget to journal is, “Oops!” I used that a lot the first year she was born. I just couldn’t keep up. When I got to year two of her life, my stomach sank every time I came across an “Oops!” entry from the year prior.
“What happened that day last year?” I’d think. Did she hit a new milestone? Was she happy that day or fussy? How many teeth did she have?
I still come across those entries. The big gut punches are the days I come across where I’ve missed both years to-date. 2015: Oops! 2016: Oops! I know I’m on track to three-peat some days. Next year, I’ll look back and come across days that I have never journaled. 2017: Oops!
Not journaling makes me feel anxious, regretful, and inadequate, but I also recognize that not journaling probably means I am tired — from reading an extra book at bedtime, from working all day so I feel good, from prepping her lunches for school, from a nightcap that made me fall asleep on the couch (again).
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not too shabby.