#write31days – Big Girl Pant(i.e.)s

Sometimes, I need my big girl pant(i.e.)s.

(That’s not a typo. I’m not eager to draw “that” kind of attention from Google. Work with me. I’m already getting traffic from people searching for hot moms in yoga pants. I suspect they’re disappointed with my blog.)

You knew it was coming didn’t you.

I’ve written about how my bossy britches aren’t flattering or authentic.  Since writing DIY and how-to posts makes me sound like Miss Bossy Pants, it seems like a good idea to avoid writing that kind of stuff.

I’ve written about my yoga pants and how they aren’t exactly my best foot forward. They’re great for writing rough drafts when I can be all comfy in the privacy of my own home, but before anything can be seen in public, I need to look a bit more presentable.

(I did say up front that I thought about naming the whole series something about pants. You were warned.)

big girl pant(i.e.)s

It’s time to talk about the big girl pant(i.e.)s.

I don’t have to wear the things all the time. I just have to have a clean pair sitting on the shelf and ready to wear when I need them.

Y’all know this is true in life. If none of us pulled those things on, we’d be up to our eyeballs in debt and our kids would be running around like wild animals. Without big girl pant(i.e.)s, we’d avoid confrontation for far to long… and then end it with drama and hurt.

Being an adult means saying “no” multiple times a day and resolving uncomfortable situations we wish we could avoid.

(In my life, it also includes doing taxes, saying “no” to the chocolate cookies in the pantry, and actually cleaning up the cat mess on the bathroom floor instead of pretending not to notice it.)

Even writers need big girl pant(i.e.)s.

I’d like to think this applies to all of us whether we’re writers or not. I’m pretty sure the need for big girl pant(i.e.)s is universal. But I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.

I need filters.

I need to know when to say “no” and stick to my guns.

I need to respect intellectual property.

I need to tactfully deal with comment trolls, spam, and creepy icky google search terms.

If I actually commit to write a sponsored post and write for money, I need to see it through even if I’m not in the mood and find the assignment needlessly complicated and restrictive.

(That last one goes a long way to explaining why I don’t write sponsored posts. I get the requests, but I don’t trust myself to actually do the work. Sigh.)

Writing requires discipline.

Discipline happens when I wear my big girl pant(i.e.)s.

get it done

I need to write even when I don’t feel like it and would much rather lay down on the floor and have a temper tantrum. I can’t publish mid-temper tantrum, but after a few brutal edits I’m often amazed at what I’ve written.

I need to write even when I’m tired and would rather take the day off.  It’s no different than the discipline required to haul my tired self out of bed for a 6am gym appointment. It helps to never think that skipping a day is an option.

But sometimes… I need to hitch up those big girl pant(i.e.)s really well and admit that I’m too drained and weary to write another word. I need to acknowledge that the very best thing I can do is to rest, or fill my head with the words of others, or drink in the zest for life that my sons both exude, or feast on the beauty of a sunset, or sit silently and talk to God.

Somehow, that last one is the hardest.

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Susan Baker
I have a passion for encouraging weary worn out mothers to find joy in everyday motherhood and peace in unlikely places. I have two elementary school boys, one nerdy husband, and two cats. I have a strange fascination for bad puns, the color pink, socks, and books. I worry about running out of toilet paper, wine, and chocolate.. I serve an amazing God. I live an ordinary life filled with wonder.
Susan Baker
Susan Baker

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Comments

  1. I’d say you already have your big girl pants on by committing to write every day of October for the 3rd(?) year in a row?

    • I’m thinking I need my head examined to do this a 3rd time. You’d think I’d learn that it’s stressful and crazy. But nooooooo…. I have to do it every year.

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