Instead of gaining tenure and a nest egg, I've sacrificed a little bit of me to mold four little newborns into four little people that I am crazy proud of. My resume has instead gained colic, night frights, bedtime stories, and trips to the emergency room. And I am proud of that.
Admitting this life was a sacrifice was just being honest- never was it with the intent to negate the value of the role that I have held and the rewards that we reap from it.
The fact is, some people fall into this role seamlessly, like they nurtured their baby dolls from infancy. I, however, chucked my baby doll, as soon as I was old enough to open a lemonade stand.
My youngest child starts preschool next month. She will only be in a few hours a day, at this point, but I know what is on the horizon. I have always known this time would come. The day she would fly this cuckoo's nest and I'd have to fill my time ruffling feathers elsewhere.
For the last two years, I have been calculating my life, sorting out logistics and asking myself, "what do I want to do when I grow up?"- or rather- when they grow up? I've sent my share of resumes, filled out applications and stalked Craigslist- none of the "Earn $30,000 a month- and not even leave your home!" have panned out. I'm still needed here on a limited basis so I had to turn down all the overseas CEO positions that were offered to me.
16 months ago I discovered a way of journaling. An outlet for all the things I had to share. It seemed to fill the little free time I had and the creative releases that I needed. It offered the support from a community of people that understood. It fit into my schedule with my kids and I enjoyed it.
I share thoughts, feelings, and fears. Everything is derived from my experiences and my opinions. Take all or nothing that you want from it- I don't claim to be an expert of anything- just a slave to blatant honesty. I editorialize. I kid. I trivialize. I curse. I poke fun at myself.
I blog. ***GASP***
I am a mom who blogs. Not a 'mommy blogger', which has its own negative connotations and hype without any help from me. And, no- I am not a drunk.
'Blog' is the new four letter word. Fear of the unknown, the predators, the ignorance. Some may be threatened by it.
My mothering has come under attack and been criticized because of my blog. That's certain to only increase if others in real life find out about it. I have banished pictures of my kids from this site in an effort to prove to make this about my words. Note to perverts: you are not welcome here- I have enough problems and if you're jacking off to my words- you also have some problems to tend to. I have come under fire as being naive and clueless when it comes to the "reality of the Internet".
I stand firm that I am hurting no one and putting no one in danger with my rants.
In July, I went to a blogging conference and among 1500 bloggers, I did not spot one axe murderer in the bunch- and I was looking! Each person I met was just as they represent themselves on their respected sites (well, maybe a few photography tricks to disguise second chins- but bygones- I was sucking in my gut, too!)
There was no Chris Hanson. No squirrely, fat, middle-aged men carrying six packs of wine coolers and boxes of condoms meeting his cyber-girlfriend that he knows only as "14YROLDSXYGAL"!
Blogging has saved my sanity and my brain from turning to a ball of animated mush. I am saddened that it's shamed and not taken as a serious forum for writing. Not for myself, but for so many talents out here.
You always hear, "do something you love"... I am doing something I love- it's oddly rewarding (and not in any sense, financially), but I still love it. Yet, slightly disheartened that the perception of the "blog" holds me back from sharing it.