A List of Excuses

It has been a long while since I last posted.

Life's been busy.
I've had writer's block.
We run out of internet data monthly.

I really could list many more reasons in an attempt to explain my prolonged absense. I've tried to write numerous times. So many nights I've opened a new page, the cursor blinking at me, fingers hovering over the keys just waiting for my brain to give them the go ahead.

The truth is, I'm stuck. In fact, I have ten drafts saved in my blogspot that I just don't know how to finish. I don't know what I want to write about.

When I first started blogging, it was late at night when I was inspired to start sharing my life with potentially millions of strangers. I had visions of garnering a faithful group of followers, and being able to build my blog into something more.  I wanted to write and captivate people with my words the same way I am obsessed with the words of a handful of bloggers.

I'm not that type of writer, and I'm not sure I ever will be. I'm okay with that. I've come to terms with the fact that this blog will never be the first bookmark someone checks when they log on to the Internet for the day. My dreams sometimes far outweigh my potential. And I'm okay with that, too.

So I decided to take a different approach and blog for me, but still let the world peep it from time to time. I shared my experience with the baby blues, and I openly grieved my mother when she passed away. I let people in when I was vulnerable in hopes that my experiences could help someone in similar situations. Because honestly, in those situations I felt entirely alone. And also, because writing, regardless of how good or not good I am at it, is therapeutic when I'm feeling emotional or have a lot on my mind.

Where does that leave me now?

It's been a year and a half since I've written publicly. Truthfully? I still have a lot on my mind. I have a draft started of how incredibly difficult and amazing I found toddlerhood with Finn to be. I have a draft started of how my second pregnancy was a bit of a surprise. I have a draft started about how much I miss my mom and how my second pregnancy was so different without her. I have a draft saved on River's birth story... on what people didn't tell me about having a second child... how my relationship with Finn is evolving since adding a new baby. The tone of all of those posts is heavy. Real. Raw.

I've always prided myself on being honest. I have never been one to tell people what it is they want to hear, but frequently when I'm being honest and self-reflective it takes a turn into what it is I'm currently struggling with. Not always, of course, but I've always been eager to write when my feelings are overwhelming. It's how I work it all out. But what I don't want this blog to be is a sad, somber grief-ridden place where all I do is mourn, mope and complain, because even though I'm blogging for me, I'd still like people to actually read what I write. I want what I have to say to matter to someone. Otherwise I'd be all angsty in a journal on my nightstand and rip out the pages once my mood has changed. Maybe I'd even have one with a passcode or hide it under my mattress like I did when I was a ten year old. But that's not what I want. And because of that, I have avoided sharing anything publicly in a long while.

I frequently reread my old posts and smile. I remember Finn's birth... his first trip to the beach... ending my maternity leave. I LOVE that those thoughts are there for me to remember, especially now that I have my second baby and I'm realizing I don't remember them quite as well as I thought I would.

So where do I go from here?

I think the best thing to do from here is to jump in, head first, into life as I currently know it. The exciting, real, emotional life that is being a mama to two boys and a wife that sucks at cooking and housework.

I don't know where it's going to take me, but I do hope you'll stick around and find out.