Mediocre

 It’s been a while. Mom died. Things kept getting messy. Work, family, kids. All of it needed to be sorted and sat with a bit. So now I'm home with a baby and my Rob trying to nurse a new little life, spend time with the one year old, keep the tween from growing up too fast and  my almost out the door seventeen year old son talking to me. 

But I'm just mediocre. So why would he want to talk to me? I mean that in the most wonderful way. I do. I love my kids. I fail but I try. I work at my sweet new marriage. I know how precious it is. I try to write daily, but sometimes I don’t. Or I just can’t. Sometimes life is all just too real. Too mediocre. Too messy and painful. But then I start to write anyhow. And it makes me feel better.


I am not wildly talented. I may never publish a book or do anything world altering. My son tells me the house is chaotic. And it is. Four kids, two dogs, one cat and a bird. Two adults running between them all. I get it. It’s chaotic. But it’s life. We try. We try to live in our mediocre moments and know they are bigger than they seem. I know part of me wishes I was a better writer, mom, teacher… but I try. I try to do a little better. Or apologize to my kids when I fail. 


I got a rejection for a query today. I got a little excited about it. I knew it was a rejection the second I saw it. But it reminded me that I’m still trying. And that’s all I can do. Try,

try again.




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