Once upon a time, I was on TV.
I wore blazers over a myriad of colorful camisoles. Caked on foundation two shades too dark for my skin tone. Straightened and hairsprayed my highlighted should-length “anchor cut.” Five mornings a week, I clipped a mic onto my lapel, wiggled an earpiece into my left ear, and delivered the news from behind a sea of tungsten lights.
And I was good at it.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t destined for network news, but I enjoyed what I was doing and felt comfortable doing it. Even though it was barely 6am (and I’m decidedly not a morning person), when the camera’s little red light blinked to life, I came alive, too. Covering the news from the anchor desk and out in the field as a reporter was different every day. It was fast-paced. It was fun. There’s something endlessly fascinating about telling people’s stories, and at its heart, that’s what journalism is really about.
But, when my husband and I had our first baby, I signed off the airwaves for good. Motherhood was a job I felt deeply called to do, and I took on the assignment of my life without looking back.
Today, I enjoy what I’m doing–and I think I’m pretty good at it most days.
Motherhood is different every day. It’s fast-paced. Fun. Endlessly fascinating.
Come to think of it, parenting is a lot like TV, but on this side of the desk, I’m doing more than telling a story–I’m creating one with my husband, our children, and the family and friends woven into the story our life.
This is a place for that story–the good, the bad, the triumphs, and the trials–to be shared.
Thanks for tuning in.