I started blogging soon after beginning my freshman year at FSU. It was a ujournal account, I don’t even remember my username and it was paragraphs lamenting about how tragically I missed my boyfriend. I didn’t use capitalization because #artsy and I would probably vomit if I found those entries.
Cut to today and I’ve shared about college, marriage, moving away, moving back, becoming an actual real life writer, adopting a goofy puppy, saying goodbye to our fur baby and welcoming two kids into our world. Through large periods of both transition and monotony, much of my life has been recorded on these pages.
But here’s the thing. I am basic and boring. The first app on my new phone was PBS, followed very closely by Target’s Cartwheel and Starbucks. I was overly excited to find a high chair cover with a decently cute print on it. These are my victories lately. Having a blog and the (self imposed) obligation to maintain it has added a pressure in my head that asks, "Is this blog worthy?" Quite frankly, the answer is usually a resounding no. As I take stock of every week for Five for Friday, two things happen: I start to search intentionally for the joy, the tiny celebrations or the frustrations that maybe other women and other moms would appreciate. (This is the thread that continues to tug at me and why I’ve plugged away despite lackluster motivation and content.)
But I also become increasingly aware of how little I do in terms of "people are going to care about this." And, really, that thought has no place in my orbit right now. I’m worried about keeping my kids safe and engaged, taking a shower a few times a week, delivering creative and on-time work to my freelance clients and supporting my sweet husband. It’s not very much on paper, or a computer screen, but it fills my days and nights. And when I happen to have the time blogging requires, I want to funnel it elsewhere. Finally putting the Lego pool and patio set together with Addison. Reading a book to Asher. Working out. Starting that children’s book. There’s plenty to do offline right now without the pressure of a perfectly curated online presence. I want to be here, in this moment, while it lasts.
I’ve also started to feel the weight of an older Addison, a young girl with peculiarities and a very specific personality. Is her story really mine to share? I want to err on the side of conservative in that debate and, when she can really understand, allow her to choose her own (pre-approved, fully clothed, thoughtful, heavily firewalled) digital identity.
It’s difficult to step away because I do feel deeply the pull toward creating community, facilitating a space of honesty, of support, of recognition, of hope for the women who are running homes and careers and after crazy children that they sometimes do not like. After three years (first typed "tears" and ain’t that the truth) and some change in this mothering mess…just…wow. Pull up a chair and let’s dish because this sh$t is real. There is so much that "no one tells you" because THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN, SISTER. And the species would die off if they did. I’ve completely lost where I was heading, but eventually I would love to open that kind of dialogue. Sharing and gleaning and growing and returning to our messes a little bit refreshed. One day, maybe. But not this day.
I’m closing up shop for right now. Probably for good.
So know that if you never commented or commented all the time (love you, Kisha!), read from the beginning or from a month ago, I appreciate every second you spent away from your life to read about mine. Now let’s go tear it up in our boring, unbloggable lives!