This poor, wee blog needs a good dusting off and also a deep clean and maybe a foot massage. She just ain’t what she used to be.
Last week I somehow stumbled across the archaic archives from my original blog from, like, 2005 and was just floored by how much I wrote back then. The words just poured out of me, into this crazy online world and I, word by word, found my voice, then had a bunch of kids, spent too much time on the computer, went to a blogging conference that kind of turned me off of blogging altogether, then went back to work and just kind of lost the drive to write here regularly. I have been so thankful for my gig at UrbanMoms, being drawn to post twice a week, otherwise I might have stopped blogging altogether.
I am still trying to navigate this brave new world and most days find that my need to share pictures of my kids and of my random French braid or my messy pantry can be achieved via Instagram and Facebook, so things are quiet here.
I am not the same girl who wrote that first post eight years ago; I have grown and changed and faltered and struggled and risen up and then fallen down all over again. I am so glad I have those old archives to peruse, to remember the feelings I felt, the dreams I dreamed and the bad photos I took.
I think that I have about three readers left these days. And one of them is my mom. (She’s great.)
If you’re reading this now, thanks. For coming back even though I’m not sure what I’m doing here.