So it begins.
Starting a blog is fun. You have all these great ideas for what your theme is going to be and dreams about it becoming wildly successful. You finally settle down on what you want to talk about, you pick the perfect name, you get a little giddy when the domain is still available…all that stuff.
But then, you have to actually start writing. Oh, sure, you spend months procrastinating by updating pages and headers and images, but eventually you have to actually post something and enter text. That’s the part that really sucks. Because you have this invisible pressure to make the opening entry something really spectacular that will stand out, suck the reader in, make them want to subscribe, beg for more…
And there you are, with a blank blog staring at you and a whole lot of anxiety.
Push. Breathe. Breathe. Push.
So as I prattle on about how hard it is to find something to write about that will stick with the unifying theme I have imagined for my blog, I realize that I don’t really have to work that hard at this. Blogging ends up being like having children, and that really does fit nicely after all.
The conception is the easy part (and honestly, the really, really, really fun part). You dream, you plan, you design, re-design, anticipate–all the good stuff. But as the actuall day of presentation draws near, you start to fret. How is the delivery going to go? How much is it going to hurt? Will it be sudden, or planned out? Will it come out looking the way you’ve dreamed?
But the day arrives, and there you are: laboring, writing, pushing, panting, writhing, pushing some more, and…done. Here it is.
O the blissfulness of ignorance.
Do you remember that moment when you realize how utterly foolish you were for worrying about the delivery day? Odds are, that moment was somewhere around 3:17 a.m. You were swaying on your feet, blinking slowly at the screaming thing in front of you, and somewhere in your head you were trying to decide which smells worse: your baby’s diaper or your distinct lack of personal hygiene. Activities like shaving your legs seemed like some exotic spa retreat. You realized that, while you still did not condone ever harming a small child, you understood it in a way you never could before.
That’s the moment when you probably felt really ignorant. Because when you finally have a chance to see the whole picture, you now knew the delivery was not something you should ever have feared. It was only the beginning of the real labor, albeit a labor of love.
Let go, and let’s go.
So I’ve begun, and there’s no turning back now. If you’re a parent who is blissfully strolling through life with perfectly groomed and behaved children who never raise their voices–well, either keep reading and have some pompous pride in the gift you were given, or move along to someone else’s blog that is littered with rainbow and unicorns. I do not want your righteous commentary, and I’m pretty sure any other parent who is struggling to figure it all out doesn’t either. I would also recommend some heavy introspection; all is never what it appears to be.
If you’re fumbling, feel like you’re botching it badly, think parenting books are lame, and are overwhelmed a large amount of the time–welcome home. I believe in trusting your instincts and analyzing every decision for both short- and long-term consequences. I adore open-minded debate, listening to other’s experiences, and not compromising personal ethics, even if it’s unpopular. The words “stupid” and “hate” are forbidden in our home. Decisions are deemed “bad” or “good”, not the people who make them. We emphasize life as a series of choices, and understanding that the right choice is not always the easy choice.
And we struggle. Together.
Hope to read more.
You are a great writer. I read your stories on Cowbird.