Today my blog is one year old.
I have been eyeing this date on the calendar this entire month. Plotting out possible poignant posts (Big P, Little P what begins with P?) with which to commemorate the start of something that has given so much to me. I wanted to say grand and lofty truths that spoke to the masses (ie: All 7 of my readers. You guys are the best.). I wanted it to be inspirational. I wanted it to start out with a single pluck on a string, then grow to a soft hum and then the crescendo and then BOOM a full orchestra is playing out the wonders that have been My First Year Blogging Experience.
Only nothing came. It hasn’t helped that the state of my writing the last few months has left much to be desired. Or that I had originally planned to unveil my new site today, a process that isn’t even out of the design stages yet. Or that I’m so tired of this winter that I find it hard to get fired up about anything except that one piece of green grass I thought I saw poking out that, oh wait, ended up just being a strip of discarded candy wrapper. (DON’T TOY WITH ME SPRING.)
I’m in a spot where I feel rather ambivalent about my place here on the interwebs. I read blogs of people who amaze me with the power of their words. Blogs that build strong communities. Blogs that have a unique and invaluable mission. I am floored by these writers and the impact their craft has on me and the blogging community. These blogs are amazing but they tend to block me. I get cowed because I know I am not at a place where I can devote that much time or energy to my space here, and unfortunately beautiful prose doesn’t come naturally to my fingertips. I ask myself why I am doing it when so many people out there were doing it first and are doing it better.
So, again, I did nothing. I wrote nothing. I didn’t know what I could say about the last year that hasn’t already been said.
This afternoon, after I laid Keaton in his crib, softly humming “Stay Awake” while one of his hands clutched blanky and the other held my own against his cheek, after I set Rowan up for rest time in our room with a stack of books precariously piled next to her, after I cleaned the remnants of the terrible tornado of mess that lunch time with two small children produces, and after I distracted myself long enough by the words of others, I opened my dashboard and clicked New Post. Then I stared at the blinking cursor.
Just when I had about given up on the whole thing, Rowan came creeping out of the room, carefully placing three dis-robed princess figurines next to me on the couch. Next to each princess she placed the dress she wanted that princess to wear.
“I need help putting the dresses on”. She stated, smiling.
“OK.” I said- Even though she was supposed to be resting on the bed with books, not down playing with toys. She had that little sparkle in her eye that has been my undoing more than a few times.
“Which one first?” I asked.
“Snow White.” She said. There was that sparkle again.
I picked Snow White up and as I attempted to pull the arm through rubber dress sleeve, it fell off.
“Oh my goodness! Her arm broke!” I exclaimed.
“Mom! What did you do?!” She said. Now the sparkle wasn’t alone. There was a giggle in her voice as she spoke the words and I realized that the arm hadn’t snapped, or bent and it didn’t fling off, it simply fell to the ground.
And it dawned on me.
I had just been set up.
“Rowan! Was this already broken? Did you break this?”
“No it was you! It was you!” but she was full-out laughing now, seeing she’d been found out and was now using her unbearable cute and clever-ness to mask the crime.
“You tried to frame me!” I exclaimed but she was so pleased with herself, positively gleeful, that laughter took over both of us. You have to admit, doctoring the arm so it looked fine and then presenting it to me in an unsuspicious manner so I would think I broke it is fairly impressive, even if she was her own undoing.
I’m now adding Evil Mastermind to her possible probable careers list.
And then I remembered. I remembered why I started this blog.
This little incident (stunt? con?) reminded me that among my favorite blogs to read are the ones where the author lets me into their lives, into their families, through this window of the computer screen. They let me see how different and how the same we all are. They are the ones that made me feel less alone in this sometimes very isolating career choice I’ve made. I remind myself that I never really set out to have an audience. I started because writing the minutiae of my life, made it all make sense. It allowed me to step back and laugh at the things that I might not otherwise have found funny and find the beauty and wonder in the things I so often take for granted.
I’m not crafting life changing sentences. I’m inviting you in… to laugh, to commiserate, to communicate. I’m simply writing our story. My story. Here it is, and thank you, thank you for reading.