Who really cares about what I have to say, anyway?

The thought of starting a blog was something that popped into my mind years ago.  Like some 20,000 people out there each day, I had the notion that I had very exciting stories to tell, or a strong opinion to share, and sometimes, I just felt plain witty.  Whatever the case, I had the idea that if I could get my thoughts on paper, someone somewhere would enjoy them, possibly appreciate them and maybe even use them to validate their own crazy thoughts and feelings.

Naturally, I pictured stressed out mothers and exhausted significant others reading my blog instead of losing that last nerve and going ballistic on their family.. Maybe finding solace in a quote or epiphany I shared.. Or getting that extra nudge around dinnertime after I posted steamy pictures of my sinful sweet potato casserole..  Anything similar to the moments that saved me when I went blog-hunting during my much needed downtime.  For some reason I felt that I’d be able to successfully portray myself as “the girl that’s got it all together!” and give women the encouragement they needed.  But those who know me best would know much, much better than this.  And I wondered if this was true about the people I turned to in those crazy moments.  Though I viewed them as Wonder Women and Supermoms, their views of themselves were quite the opposite and shared a common theme:  they didn’t take credit for anything, maybe even dimmed the spotlight on themselves a bit, and simply explained that they were just working from their hearts, good or bad, and finding their own therapy and peace in the meantime.  Well, I could do that..




The pressure lifted.  I didn’t have to be a know-it-all to start a blog.  I just needed to know what I know.  I didn’t need to be politically correct, or highly educated in any of the worldly issues, I just needed to honor my own mind and express my views of this world.  I think the main thing that I decided when I signed up here at good ole blogger.com was that I needed what all of you have to say more than you may need what I have to say.  Seriously.  I freak out about motherhood and domesticity in general at least two to three hours of my everyday.  I’m actually pretty clueless about mothering, though I like to think otherwise, I'm bored with my recipes, I get so sick of doing the dishes and if you have a better way or a shortcut or just the simple "been there and you'll survive, honey," I’m all ears.  Not to mention, I’m trying to untangle the web of society I'm surrounded by and run free into the light of faith and hope and love.  As a Christian woman in this moment of our existence, it is nothing short of amazing that I press on each day towards truth and resist the urge to just give up and run away with my apron flying in the dust.  The women of faith who inspire me each day are lifesavers.

It is on this note that I would like to disclose that I am not perfect.  I know, shocking..
I enjoy using the “d” word and the “b” word in perfectly fun and endearing ways.  I make more mistakes than I should be allowed to.  I often have the attention span of a catnip saturated kitten in a yarn store.  I do not eat perfectly, I enjoy a glass of wine or three here or there, and my home is clearly lived in.  My 10 month old son, Eli, is throwing scrambled eggs at me this very minute and I have not even blinked.  Our carpet will survive, as it has since he arrived..
And I will not pretend to be perfect.  I have come a long way, but I know I still have a long way to go. 

So to formally introduce myself, my name is Kristin and I’m a pretty typical American girl living in Michigan.  I have two wonderful men in my life:  Thomas, whom you'll hear waay too much about in the posts to come, and Eli, our Korean-American gift from God who you'll hear waay, waay too much about..  I'll pause to start this bad habit right now.

The first of far too many..
 

EchoCafe is inspired by Eli, as I found it exciting to know that my duty is to echo the world around me to him as he learns, and in return, I get the echo of the things he learns and experiences, almost as if I'm experiencing them all over again.  Echoes never bring back exactly what was sent out, and so this echo of my thoughts on life should resonate with virtually anyone that comes in.
The cafe part?  Well, I’m a coffee freak.. as most tired mothers are.

I work in the natural health and wellness field as a massage therapist.  I live my home life as a Martha-Rachael-Giada-Dr. Sears fanatic, but it comes out something more like the lyrics to Deana Carter’s “Did I Shave My Legs For This?”  My posts will range between epiphanies and deep thoughts, recipes and knitting patterns, baby advice or complaining about not having a shower in two days, fictional compositions, pondering the medical world and the world of alternative medicine, music, art, dream analysis, cultural confusions, love, relationships, faith and whatever else can fit.

I once described my brain as a gumball machine.  All of my thoughts swimming loose and free and trickling down the chute as they fit.  If you put a quarter in me, good luck guessing what would come out.  Lately, in light of the invention of the (amazing) Keurig coffee maker, I’d say my thoughts are more like the carousel of caffeinated options.  As I’ve grown up, just a bit *giggle*, my outpouring of thought has becoming just that, a long, aromatic and enticing pour, rather than an idea that you pop in and spit out later, possibly turning your teeth blue in the process. 

So if you have a free moment, grab your favorite mug and hang out for a bit.  Whether bold or sweet, double shot or decaf, I may just have the drink you need to fill it *smile*

Ok, now to get the eggs out of the carpet…

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