Now that it is officially bordering on too long between posts I am forcing myself to write something.

Sometimes I wonder how I ever made it through the English major.In starting this blog I have been reminded that I have to be in exactly the right mood to write. Freshman year of college getting in the mood would require a sojourn to the pit in the library with a black coffee to make me feel even more scholarly. Once I secured a job at the local coffee shop I made it a point to upgrade my location to Blue Mondays and drink to a macchiato cubano (If you haven't had one and like sipping espresso try it, you won't be disappointed). Granted the amount of quality writing that I produced was minimal but I was at least inspired by the other studious patrons around me. Senior year if I didn't have a glass of wine in me to get going, forget about it.

Come to think of it, most things in my life, that are at all successful at least, must be inspired. Painting, cleaning, organizing, working out, crafting, reading. Let's take painting. I have been attempting to start a new painting for about 6 months now. I could blame my now crawling and pulling herself up to stand 7 month old but that would be lame. I could find time. I just can't find any inspiration. I was at the mercy of the St. Olaf art major for so long, doctoring my style to fit what I thought was required that I'm afraid I've forgotten what made me want to be an art major in the first place. I plan to buy some chocolate pudding, strip Ainsley down to her diaper, lay out a big piece of finger painting paper and see if she can't help remind me what I love about creating art.

I have been surprised by this hesitancy of mine to create. I think I had this idea that once I became a mom, that would be enough, that I would stop craving external sources of accomplishment. As good as I feel when Ainsley crawls over to me and lifts her arms up to be held, or snuggles her head into the crook of my neck or looks me right in the eye as she fills her pants, I still have a need to grow and learn outside of, or at least with my new role as a mother.

I want to paint a spectacular watercolor that does not include "figurative images" or shelters. I want to write a story that isn't just pages in my diary. I want to knit a ridiculously amazing Christmas stocking for Ainsley and have time on the side to finally master Ian's grandma Ruth's pot roast and perfect a recipe all my own.

Perhaps just writing this all down will be enough inspiration for me to actually do it all. If not, I at least accomplished writing one more post.