The Good Enough Mama

As this blog just serves to be my little corner of the internet, I felt a little brave (but vulnerable) to type this out here.  I worry. I worry a LOT. But these days, my topmost worry is about MONEY. Given my background, that is terribly ironic.  Ironic-bad as in it makes me cry to think I am at my mid-30s still having no secure financial ground under my feet...  Ironic-amusing as I had promised my younger self that when I grew up, I would NEVER let money drive my actions nor let its absence drive me to start arguments with my partner or emotionally "deprive" my offspring. Also because I AM that (annoying older) millenial who always thought that money is a tool, not a goal. I am ashamed to say this, but because this is a very lonesome cave, I can shout about it (in all CAPS) without much concern. I'm freaking SCARED, internet void  Can I call you Ivy for short?  It seems better to pretend I'm writing a letter to someone... also makes me sound a little less cuckoo Eve

 A wise friend once shared that on becoming a parent, she realized that for sanity's sake, the best step would be to "throw" all her child psychology books out the window and stop worrying about "shoulds" and "musts." She vowed to learn parenting by reading her child, and not a book. I tend to agree. More than other parents, moms (or dads) in my profession are even more hyperaware of the numerous ways parenting can go wrong (or right), deftly skirting the mistakes most newbie parents make and (I imagine) hitting target milestones almost every time. I'm especially conscious of this being that I had always dreamed of being a Mama and had started my own Parenting Tips mini-book (for my eyes alone) since med school, wanting to bring my realizations of parenting learned from others and from clinics into MY own journey; as preparation for when the time actually came. The thing that I'm realizing now is that the difficulty with parenting books and adv

  I miss pouring out all my feelings on a computer screen. There just is a difference VS writing it out on paper. I can edit, I can read what I wrote immediately without having to struggle over reading my own chicken-scratch handwriting and my hand doesn't cramp up as much. When I was pregnant, my wrist was immobilized hence even writing or typing was impossible. These hours in the evening (the magical 10-12 pm Golden Period) is usually where I become pensive, reflecting on the day that was and where the "spirits" swirling around me and the voices inside my head make itself heard the loudest. BFF mentioned the other day how I was her journal, how writing seemed weird to her because it felt like talking to a wall. I wonder if journaling is something only privy to an introvert's arsenal. That would be a shame, though. Journaling and writing to yourself in journal, or even talking to yourself thru a tape recorder (if you're a better orator than writer) speaks