Why am I here?

I guess I've got some explaining to do.  Who am I, and what do I have to say that you need to hear?  This might be the hardest post ever.

Hi, I'm Hilary.  Nice to meet you.  As I write this, I am 23 years old, I have a 2 year old daughter (Wendy), I am about 33.5 weeks pregnant with my second child (a boy, Luke), I have been married for almost 4 years (to Ryan), and I want to be a writer when I grow up.  I also want to be a midwife, photographer, graphic designer, and professional recipe and cook-off contestant. 

I consider myself to be an Indigo Adult...that is, an Indigo Child who grew up, kind of.  What the hell does that mean?  Google it.  There are all kinds of explanations, ranging from the far out new-agey to the psuedo-scientific.  The whole spiritual side of it, well I find that fascinating but I really don't know.  I like to attempt to wrap my brain around the idea of a greater purpose and fates and all that fun stuff, and it certainly is a nice ego stroke to think of myself as more advanced like some people describe Indigos, but I don't want to get carried away with any of that.  To me, the "Indigo" classification of personality type is the one I feel best describes the set of traits I choose to recognize in myself.  So that's why I picked it for the name of my blog.  That, and when you say "Indigo Momma" out loud it sounds like some neat tribal language.

I'm one of those people who's always looking at the big picture, inferring, analyzing, contemplating.  Always, even when I really don't want to.  I can't stand to do anything just because that's what people do, that's how it's done.  If enough people tell me a movie is great and I simply have to see it, I will purposely never see it.  Before I make almost any decision, I feel compelled to explain to myself WHY I would choose that option, and if I feel like I don't have significant evidence to support my decision I must research, research, research and present myself with the findings.  There MUST be a reason for everything, always.  But I also act on emotional impulse a lot.  I am extremely emotional, but also extremely rational, and so I'm at odds with myself more often than not.  It's exhausting.  I'm drawn to the spiritual, fantastical, bizarre, and unconventional.  I'm pretty terrible socially.  I stick my foot in my mouth a lot, I allow awkward silences to hang for way too long, and I regurgitate random facts and trivia at totally inappropriate times, but I'm usually cute enough to get away with it.  I've been described as pixie-like.  I almost always have a big, dumb grin on my face, and if I don't, it probably means I'm deep in thought about something that may or may not have any relevance to the current situation.  I generally love life and the universe I live in, yet you'll find I complain a lot because in all honesty it just hurts my feelings that not everyone is as in love with everything as I am.  I guess whining is my coping mechanism of choice.

So, about the blog.  Mothering a child is extra interesting when you're the type of person who has always felt like your purpose in life is to figure out all the mysteries and intricacies of the universe.  To me, every giggle, every temper tantrum, every breath of my child is a wonder, a marvel to be observed and unraveled and interpreted.  I learn more from my two year old than I think she learns from me.  I don't live a particularly interesting life, so I thought for a long time it would be basically impossible for me to write anything of interest to anyone.  I thought I would wait until I became more interesting, until I accomplished something important or became somebody to start writing with the intention of being read.  Who wants to read about the life of a housewife?  I'm not a rock star, except in my own mind, I don't travel much, I don't think I'm terribly funny.  To most people it would probably appear that I'm living the status quo that I condemn-- I'm mostly a stay at home mom, with hobbies that I like to pretend are careers.  My husband brings home the bacon and I cook it.  We are a lower middle class family, living in an income-controlled apartment, clipping coupons, getting by day to day.  But in my mind, I've decided there is nothing more important I could possibly be doing than this:  learning all I can possibly learn about the meaning of life by pretending I know how to be completely responsible for another human being.  I think I just want to share all the things I learn.