Monthly Archives: July 2012

Last night I had the wee-bean all snug in her bassinet, the kitchen was clean and the Hubster was shooting something or other on the xbox with our little neighbour friend / brother / son.

It was the perfect time to write. So, I did.

I wrote out a big blog post. I edited it, and clicked publish.

Then the WordPress gods decided to rally against me and deleted the entire thing without a trace. No draft saved, no “back button” magic. It was just… gone.

*sigh*

I was much too tired to try and rewrite it last night, so, here I am.

My post was a confession of sorts, all about an irrational fear I’ve harbored for a long time. A fear I’m quite embarrassed to admit. A fear I’ve been working to conquer this summer.

Are you ready for this? I have long been afraid of having people over to my house.

Let me explain: I am not a hoarder, nor do I have any anti-social tendencies. I’m proud of my house and I love love seeing people.

But I am convinced that I am the most awkward hostess… ever. I am terrified that I’ll invite people over and they’ll have a terrible time and it will affect our friendship.

Seriously.

I don’t really know where it came from, but somewhere along the way I began putting a lot of pressure on myself when it came to having people over. I felt like my home needed to be pristine, and that there needed to be witty, awesome conversation all night long.

…and that anything less would be a complete disaster.

And this fear only pops up when people would come here–going out would be no problem.

Ridiculous, right?

So, I decided that enough was enough. I began pushing myself to invite people over on a regular basis, and each time I did it got a little easier. I started to realize that people won’t stop being my friend if there is a smudge on my window or if my floors haven’t been washed in the last 24 hours. That a pause in conversation is sometimes okay. That even if a dish doesn’t turn out quite the way you want it to, it can actually be a bit funny.

That life is not perfect, and I put too much pressure on myself.

This summer has been my summer for hosting. We’ve had people over for visits and dinner, and we’ve hosted several large BBQ parties that I think have been successful. This week alone I had two belated birthday parties that I had a blast at. (It was my champagne birthday. I felt that celebrating for three weeks was justified. ha) Last Monday I had eleven of my girlfriends over, and considering that many of them didn’t know each other when they arrived, I think everyone enjoyed themselves. Everyone brought a fabulous appetizer, salad or dessert, and the Hubster manned the BBQ so we could sit and chat.

Yesterday I invited my family down, and enjoyed a fun day with my parents and three brothers. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little bit of anxiety before each event, but in both cases it was completely unfounded.

And I am discovering that I actually really like having people over–I love when my house is loud and full of people. Each time it’s getting a little easier, and the stress I feel before people come is lightening each time.

So, there you have it. I feel a bit silly for admitting it, but I figure that I can’t be the only person in the world that feels this way.

Wanna come over? :)

Earlier this week a good friend of mine contacted me about starting a blog. She was looking for a way to explore some ideas she has, and felt that blogging could be a good creative outlet for them.

(Of course, I wholeheartedly agreed. Blogging = love.)

As we were covering the basics on which website to use, and how to set up the style and look of it, she inevitably asked me the question I think all writers have battled: “What should I call it?”

It got me thinking about my own blogging journey, and took me right back to the day in 2006 when this little blog was born. I vividly remember staring blankly at my computer screen, desperately trying to come up with something clever and witty to fill in Blogger’s “Blog Title” box that was sitting blank in front of me. After trying a billion different titles that didn’t feel right, I decided just to simplify my thinking and make my title about something I was passionate about.

Thus, I Heart My Shoes was born.

In that moment I became Shop Girl*–a 21 year old student in my third year of university, and shoes were (and are) a great passion in my life. I had no idea then that my lonely ramblings would become my creative outlet for nearly 6 years.

I feel like my writing has changed as time has passed and I’ve moved through different phases in my life. I definitely still love shoes, but I can’t say that I have the time to devote to my love for them that I once did. My collection has dwindled over the years, and as I no longer go out on the town like I once did, the places that I have to wear my fun shoes to has steadily declined.

So, I got to thinking: if I were to start my blog today, what would my name be? Would it still be I Heart My Shoes? Would I still be Shop Girl?

I know that my writing of late has drifted into the realm of “mommy-hood”. I didn’t mean to become a mom-blogger, but as I’m now in this phase of my life, it just seemed to be a natural progression.

But I don’t want that to be all that I am.

Seeing my friend begin her blogging journey brought up a longing to write that I haven’t felt in a long time. I suddenly felt like I needed to write–that annoying, wonderful urge that I just can’t ignore.

So, I’m hopeful. This past year has just been wild–the pregnancy, work and then the wee-bean changed my whole world (for the better), and instead of chronicling it, I let it distract me from writing.

Now that Ruby’s sleep schedule is working better and she is on a bit of a routine, I hope to schedule in some daily time for me. For this.

I finally realized how much I’ve missed it.

So. While I don’t know if I’d still end up with “I Heart My Shoes” if I started anew today, I know that deep down that part of me is still kicking around somewhere.

Maybe I just need to go shoe shopping to rediscover myself. :)