The Book I May or May Not Write

I have the nicest friends in the world.  When I write a short, quippy thing my kid said on Facebook, my very nicest friends will say, "I can't wait for you to write a book."

I sort of feel like people are American Idoling me....you know, encouraging me to do something I'm passionate about even though I am not really good at it---never thinking I would actually have the audacity to pursue it---but then they're in too deep with the lie....but even so, those comments make me feel good.  (Which is kind of weird, possibly narcissistic, because it's actually my kids being entertaining, and not my words.  Yet I press on.)

I wrote for 31 days straight in October, and I discovered maybe I am not so good at writing more than 2 sentences at a time.  So I decided maybe writing a book wasn't in my future.

But then I spent a lot of time thinking during November and realized that, even if no one reads what I write, I think it would be really fun to put into words what swirls around in my head.  Free therapy, perhaps?!

So, tonight, I wrote the introduction to my book.  I may or may not finish it.  But I've, at least, started it.  Because you're my kind friend (and because no one is asking me to write a book, so it probably will never get published anyway), I will share with you the introduction.  A very rough, rough draft.

(And if you're just American Idoling me, let's just stick with that lie for now.)

Enjoy Your Nursing Boobs

And Other Unconventional Advice No One Will Tell You

By Sarah Williams

(My name is so common that it may seem fake.  It is not.)

This is what you need to know about me. 

I have four children.  Three boys.  One girl.  In other words, one child who pees in toilet, and three with terrible aim.   

I have had four c-section births.  You don’t need to ask me condescendingly why I had four c-sections.  They weren’t elective, but it wouldn’t matter if they were. 

I breastfed all of my children for a year.  Except the third one.  I stopped at 11 months so I could go to Islands of Adventure with my husband.  He can be my most difficult child, which I think has something to do with his shortage of breast milk.

I vaccinate my kids because I don’t want them to die.  Just kidding.  I mean, I don’t want them to die.  But that’s not why I vaccinate. 

I homeschool my kids.  We aren’t weird.  I just don’t like to wake up before 8 am. 

I had all of my children by the time I was 30.  So I really can’t be trusted with responsible decisions. 

My husband is super hot and really funny.  That doesn’t matter except just to know I do make some good decisions.

I am not sure if these facts have anything to do with anything.  But I am a very curious (some may call it nosey) person, and if that’s you, I just want to save you the effort of stalking me on Facebook. 

I’ve been a mom for almost nine years.  That definitely does not qualify me as an expert, but I’ve done the 0-3 years four times.  So I have some thoughts on the matter.  Parenting is crazy.  Some days I rock it.  Some days I suck at it.  But I love it more than anything. 

I knew approximately nothing when I brought my teeny little boy home.  When he was three days old, I looked wearily at my husband and said, “I feel like all my friends have lied to me.” 

I was barely 24, so I maybe knew two people with children.  But I somehow felt like, in all of the literature I’d read about parenting, no one told the truth.  Or maybe I was unwilling to face the truth.  I don’t know.  But I do know I felt betrayed.  

Maybe this is just my experience, but I was unwilling to admit parenting was hard.  It didn’t come naturally to me.  And it wasn’t really fun.  It was downright difficult.  And nothing like I had dreamed of.   

(Spoiler alert: it eventually changed.  We will get there.)