It’s funny, when I started blogging it was purely to document Motherhood, in my words, which would then go on & be gifted to my children one day, … as arrogant as that might even sound. I mean seriously, my words? A gift?! But what I mean by that is that I just want to write wholesome words about this parenting caper, & document Max & Frankie’s childhoods in words as honest as if I were telling them to my grown children’s faces (which, … because I’ve always lacked any real sense of filter, will always be acutely honest), & then occasionally illustrate those stories with pretty photographs. I mean, not technically pretty photographs, because when it comes to photography? I’m just that little bit below amateur. And that’s ok – I don’t strive to be better. For me, it’s always been about words. Words that this little space always intends to pass down to my children. At the risk of sounding even more arrogant, it’s these words that I imagine will perhaps provide a small degree of comfort when my grown children become parents themselves.
Or maybe they won’t, … & that’s cool too.
Three years into this whole blogging caper, & it still primarily remains about the words for those beautiful future grown children o’ mine. But y’see, then it went & became a little more than that too. People started reading, & then they started commenting, & then they’d e-mail me, & then I’d e-mail them back, friendships were made, virtual villages were created. Christ, I even broke my bloggy rule & caught up with people I only knew via blogging. So, … not at all. We met first over dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Melbourne, & Dave requested that I text him every thirty minutes to ensure that I hadn’t been entirely hacked up & sold for my bodily organs, or something. As it turns out, my iPhone battery went completely dead on my way to the restaurant, & then true to my initially painfully shy style, I felt too embarrassed to ask these brand new ‘friends’ if I could borrow their phones just to let Dave know I had arrived, that I was alive & well, & that I was not in the company of serial killers posing as ‘Mummy bloggers’.
It took Dave three whole days to forgive me, which in Davey Boy land is a flipping long time. The guy doesn’t have a grudge holding bone in his body, but then knowing that your wife was driving out to meet a group of people she only knew online, & then not hearing from her at all? Well … yea, I probably deserved every one of those three whole days of completely silent silent treatment. That said, I’d say it was entirely worth it though, because some of the girls that I met that night have gone on to become some of the most incredible friends.
Blogging still remains to be about documenting my Mothering journey, & aspects of my children’s childhoods (albeit, filtered & carefully considered aspects), but then it’s also gone on to become so much more than that. Mostly though? It’s my virtual village when the sometimes lonely nature of working-from-home with very young children starts to feel just a teensy tiny bit too isolative, … & lonely.
I can come here, tap out a post & say, “hey there. It’s just little old me. I’m here. It’s been three days since I’ve had a shower. I haven’t managed breakfast before 3pm this week. I might even smell. My hair is a little greasy. But I’m here, & I’m raising my children”, & then people respond! Women, men, … parents.
And then suddenly? These early parenting years, with their sometimes isolative nature, & their far-too-many lonely days? Well, they suddenly don’t feel so isolative & lonely any more.
Viva la blogging, … & all that jazz.