I haven't blogged in over a year. I could say that I got busy and tired with two kids, which is true, but that's not why I stopped writing. See, when you start your own bored-stay-at-home-mom blog, you realize how many bored stay at home moms are out there blogging. THOUSANDS. And then you're like, "Well, shit. I'm not original at all." It takes the wind out of your sails.
I also kind of got sick of talking, writing, and reading about parenting. I get Parents magazine, preschool sends home Parent & Child, friends are always reposting articles about parenting issues on Facebook, and I end up chatting about kids with neighbors, friends, and other parents at the park or during swim class. AND SOMETIMES I WANT IT TO FUCKING STOP. I just want to watch Myth Busters, read my book that is NOT about parenting, have a conversation that is completely inappropriate for young ears, and fall face-down in my bed at night without feeling like I am somehow failing or inadequate or hopelessly behind in some inane competition. Because you know what? I am way more than a parent. So do I want to feed into that parenting-information overload and choke my friends to death with even more momblog? No.
Now, I don't need to have the best momblog in the universe, but I really started questioning why I was writing. I don't want anyone to think I'm showing off or think that I have deluded myself into believing that I know everything about parenting (because if you were here Friday afternoon, it'd be clear that I don't). One friend suggested that I don't write for others--I write for myself. Decent point, but I do like feeling helpful. I wrote about my breast feeding struggles because I felt alone and desperate and wanted to maybe give someone else what they needed emotionally. I wrote about cloth diapering and circumcision from a journalistic approach to help someone else in the midst of making a tough decision. And maybe I was showing off a little with the craft projects. Maybe. A little.
The other question I have to ask myself is what do I want the world to know about me and my kids? I vowed to never show pictures of them or reveal their names on the blog because they are too young to sign consent forms. Does the world need to know about every struggle, every failure, every success, or should I keep it to myself like the tiny percentage of moms who don't have blogs?
So, dear reader, where does that leave us? Where is this teeny-weeny prawn in an ocean full of momblogs going to go? I don't know. Help me figure out my groove. Do I continue writing? Do I shut the fuck up and go to bed?
