I've started to feel inconsequential at best, obsolete at worst, for not having a first-hand understanding of how to post a blog. It's similar to Anna Quindlen's recent critical commentary of John McCain, who has gone on record to say that he has never been on the internet at all. That he doesn't text or IM goes without saying. Things are moving too quickly to let yourself lose your cultural foothold. Once lost, it may never be regained. I just learned that EMO means "emotionally disturbed." I informed a 60-something friend of mine about this abbreviation and he replied, "I know."
I don't think I'm organized or disciplined enough to have a cool, themed blog. I seem to be a collage of things these days, except the glue of my collage is really curdled breastmilk spitup. It's everywhere. My sister in law keeps telling me to just rub it in, but I haven't yet reached the acceptance stage. By virtue of the fact that I so rarely have a burp rag within reach, I'd estimate that I'm still generally in denial.
Most likely it will be a place to process the things I enjoy, the things I abhor, the things I grapple with and try to find victory over. I'll let you sort them into the categories you think appropriate: Pregnancy and childbirth. The tantrums of a wonderfully stubborn three year old. Living organically. The challenge to LET GO when everyone and everything tells us to hold on tighter and tighter. How to simultaneously put 2 kids to bed when one needs to be swaddled, nursed and rocked and the other wants 3 stories, a snack, a prayer and a lullaby, and to change pajamas 3 times. Being married to a musician/artist. The smell of cloth diapers just before washing. The vulnerability of having your livelihood wrapped into the most delicate, lovely package of 2 little girls. And the list goes on.
I remember the first time I read about a "blog." It was an article that defined the term, and said how terrible it was that teens were posting their most intimate thoughts and feelings online and then letting them be open to the public. And now here we are a year or two later and it's a household term. Not only that, but people are using their blogs for good--I point people to my dear friend Marisa's blog all the time. She challenges me, entertains me, keeps me in her world through her blog.
I don't think I'll get quite as much accomplished with mine, but it will be at least a quiet presence in the web wilderness. Tonight I uttered a tired prayer that I would have some time to reflect, a bit of rest in those brief moments between the girls' bedtime and my own. Last night I ran up my stairs probably 20 times between the hours of 7-8:30, sometimes bouncing between rooms, hearing both girls crying at the same time. Bedtime seemed never-ending. Tonight, it went flawlessly. And I only gave Elliott a small bribe of chocolate chip pancakes in the morning if she went to sleep without "carrying on." That's become my saying. It's the nicest way I can sum up all the antics she can pull out. It keeps me from using harsher language that would insinuate more frustration on my part.
I guess I'll go now and see how people put pictures on their blogs, and do all that other fancy stuff.
Stay with me. Check back in. Every once in a while, I come up with something that really means something. And at the very least, I'm great at finding quotes of other people's really great thoughts. And that has to count for something.
