I used to keep up this old blog, fairly consistently. It was my therapy. I started writing on a whim - a challenge from a friend when blogging was first booming. At the time, I was in a pretty low place. Three young kids, a hard-working husband who was rarely home, the financial stresses of self-employment...I couldn’t see my life ever being anything different than it was at that moment. I think I was stuck in a post-postpartum depression.
Little did I know, that little blog saved me. It saved my motherhood. I started to write about our craziness. And once I started to write, the infuriating became hilarious. I could find the purpose in the midst of the hard. All of the sudden, I could see the good. Three kids eventually became four and four became five. I got sick and the kids got busier and something (lots of somethings) had to go. After a while, instagram became a thing and I started recording our crazy there. It was quicker and I needed quick.
I’ve been wanting to get back to it, the longer musings. But, busy reigns.
This morning I decided it is time. Maybe it’s because I’ve been reading old journals. All of those “ordinary days” of my grandparents have brought light and direction and mostly just light. All things that I didn’t even know I needed. Then last night, Claire & Sam wanted to read our old blog books for bedtime. The kids have always loved reading them.
When I woke up this morning, I knew. It’s time. Maybe just for a minute or two, but I’m gonna start writing again.
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