I really want to write more, but I find myself at odds with this word presentation. Not at odds with the words themselves, I'm fine with them, always will be. It's more that I'm not sure about this little niche I'm trying to carve out here. It was easier when it was just my strange, volatile artistic friends and the random recommended stranger reading my ramblings. It was easier when I wasn't measuring myself as a mother and I just said/spelled whatever random thoughts crossed my psyche, regardless of how disturbing they might be to a general populace, or a close family member. It's self-censoring at its finest.
I wanted to mommy-blog, kind of, but I'm not sure I'm cut out for it. Don't get me wrong, I love my little Matchstick Girl. She just turned one. She's walking a few steps at a time now and has learned to play in the toilet when her Daddy forgets to shut the lid and the bathroom door. I could rhapsodize about her for hours, most likely, because every minute little thing she does just thrills and fascinates me. I know, however, that in a lot of ways, these small treasured moments are very personal, and I can't yet figure out a way to present them in a way that can convey what they mean to me.
Another thing: even though I find most of Facebook to be consumed with boring, mundane, trivial, trite, annoying blathering coming out of people, every now and then it shows me something about someone that I cherish. One of these people is my cousin, Leslie. She's around my baby brother's age and even though my baby brother and I are extremely close, I've never been close to Leslie, or her younger sisters. To be honest, I don't even really know how to connect with them. Or, at least, I didn't. But Leslie is something else; I had no idea how talented or artsy she was. I'm really proud of her.
Openings are important. I keep reminding myself to take the time to walk through them and take a look around.
I wanted to mommy-blog, kind of, but I'm not sure I'm cut out for it. Don't get me wrong, I love my little Matchstick Girl. She just turned one. She's walking a few steps at a time now and has learned to play in the toilet when her Daddy forgets to shut the lid and the bathroom door. I could rhapsodize about her for hours, most likely, because every minute little thing she does just thrills and fascinates me. I know, however, that in a lot of ways, these small treasured moments are very personal, and I can't yet figure out a way to present them in a way that can convey what they mean to me.
Another thing: even though I find most of Facebook to be consumed with boring, mundane, trivial, trite, annoying blathering coming out of people, every now and then it shows me something about someone that I cherish. One of these people is my cousin, Leslie. She's around my baby brother's age and even though my baby brother and I are extremely close, I've never been close to Leslie, or her younger sisters. To be honest, I don't even really know how to connect with them. Or, at least, I didn't. But Leslie is something else; I had no idea how talented or artsy she was. I'm really proud of her.
Openings are important. I keep reminding myself to take the time to walk through them and take a look around.
