About Me — Melissa Marietta

The recent winter solstice reminded me of the long commutes home with a baby and a toddler in tow. After spending hours at work, I entered the dark night and rushed to daycare.

As quickly as possible, I’d pack the kiddos like precious glass objects being shipped out in the mail.

First, it was the snowsuits, then boots, mittens, and coats, each adding inches to their circumference, complicating the effort of getting them into their car seats while they screamed and hit me.

A few deep breaths and some arm strength were required to carry all the things into the house.

From morning to night, I was on my toes all the time, with the exception of bed and story time, when I curled up in one of the kids’ beds hours later, a book on my chest and a sweet and sweaty small person wrapped around me.

At first, the parenting lifestyle was a rude awakening, including the sleepless nights, the amount of stuff I carried around, and the planning involved with leaving the house.

Over time, it became as normal as tying my shoes.

I could no longer recall what I did with your time before I had kids. Or maybe I did and I regretted not having accomplished more when I had the time. While picking up a Binky pacifier off the floor of Wal-Mart for the 8th time, I’d ask myself, “Why did I never learn to play the violin?”

I have yet to learn the violin but I have found space to write. I created a blog, just like thousands of other moms, in the mid 2000’s. I had no intention to post cute photos of my house or our smiling family wearing matching outfits, sitting casually on a picnic blanket in a field. I had no advice to give or desire to outline ways one could be more successful as a mom.

I didn’t write for an audience. I wrote for myself.

The blog started as a space to tell stories about the silliness and shenanigans that take place with a husband and a baby. My first essay documented how my husband forgot to feed our six month old baby one day because I hadn’t instructed him to do so.

We were green parents, in love with one another, the life we created, and equally overwhelmed with how to make it all work. I’ve practiced writing for 14 years, documenting my parenting journey.

My writing shifts as I experience, adapt and shift as a wife, mother, feminist and human being. I continue to have silly moments and often laugh as I document life with pithy commentary and sarcasm.

My work no longer scratches the surface and I want to go even deeper.

As an artist, my guiding principles are to be real and raw. My writing explores the polarities of parenting, and of being a mother, wife and feminist. Within each moment of frustration and fear lies beauty and peace. I could say that my family are my muses, however it is the way in which I understand myself as a parent, as a person, and a woman, that truly inspires me to write.

I search to reclaim the “me” in “we” in my family relationships.

Life as a mother swallowed me whole and I adored it, hated it, yearned to be anything but it, and now, seek a balance between my identities. Through writing, I am holding a conversation with myself, seeking to better understand how to hold space for all of these dichotomies.

I jot lines in notebooks and on the backs of envelopes and send myself voice dictations while driving to soccer practice. I then write alone, in corners of my home while children yell, dogs bark, and pasta boils over on the stove.

I joined Medium in November as a test.

Would readers who have never met me connect to the stories I have to tell? Can I make someone laugh, or think critically, as a result of what I write? Can my words make someone feel less lonely or more loved?

What I didn’t realize is that I’d meet a whole world of readers and writers on Medium who are already making me laugh, think critically, feel less lonely and more loved. Thanks and I look forward to continuing this experience here.

Keep going and be strong,

Melissa