I know I disappeared.
It was kind of nice to completely ignore this little blog for a couple weeks, but the truth is: I can't keep away.
I'm addicted to blogging. The first blog I can remember having is a Xanga - maybe my freshman year of high school? I have vague memories of a middle school Live Journal- but I'm not certain I didn't imagine that one. But whether I was 13 or 14 when I first started writing my thoughts online like this- I've been doing it regularly for over a decade. And it's my favorite medium for writing and remembering.
Sometimes I feel so frustrated with this blog. I want it to be more beautiful with better design and photography. I want it to be more popular, with regular readers and some kind of profit. I want it to be more or less personal than it is, or more inspiring, or or or... I don't know.
But this blog, like every other blog I've ever written: is me.
The first blogs, were teenage me. This is Becky. I like boys, and ARGH! Why don't the boys I like, like me back? I saw a funny movie, here's a hilarious exaggerated story, some thoughts on a book I thought were deep (probably a Vonnegut), a recorded conversation, and a blurry picture of myself trying to look like I have smaller teeth than I really do.
Then, there was young adult Becky's blog. (Personally, I think that blog is hilarious and enjoy the occasional reread.) Lots of recorded conversations, lots of stories about people who annoy me and stories about how great I am. (I've got a thing about that, apparently. Shameless, really.) Stories of life at college with roommates and best friends, stories of falling in love with this man I've now been married to for five years, and photography that stumbled along- trying to improve itself, and slowly became something bearable.
And new-Mom Becky. From newly married and newly pregnant to three children and a mad house filled with colored-in children's books, Batman costumes, and the occasional rotten apple I pull out from under the furniture. (How long has THAT been there?!) Still recording funny conversations, observations on life that I think are deep, and the occasional post (like this) where I just blabber endlessly.
I still write blog posts in the middle of the night, when I can't sleep (3:46am right now.) My photography is of my children, my home, the things I make, and my own face.
I still write for validation and acknowledgement. I want people to chime in and say, "Me too! I feel you!" I want them to say, "I love you and I like you!" And even, "You're a good mom, writer, photographer, wife, friend, person!"
But the truth is, I mainly write for me. Even when no one comments, I can't help but write. Even when my posts aren't funny, insightful, or unique- I can't help but post them. Sometimes, I feel like I'm typing just to type, (didn't your mom ever scold you, "Stop talking just to hear yourself talk!")- but I can't help it.
I'm typing just to feel myself type. Because I love to write, even if what I'm writing isn't anything special.
But what I'm getting at is this, I guess: it is special.
This blog is beautiful, boring, messy, unimportant and important TO ME. It is a chapter in the book of my life, the chapter called "I'm too tired to title this chapter because my beautiful children don't sleep at night."
And someday when I've moved on to the next blog (Homeschooling Mom Blog? Traveling Mom Blog? Okay, probably just Regular Mom Blog.) this little Baby Making Blog will have been the happy little moment in between it and young-adult Becky.
And someday when I have time and money (okay, so never) I'll take all these essays and put them into a book that my kids will be too embarrassed to read.
And now, even though it's 4am- I am in a hotel with a jacuzzi tub. So maybe Imma take a bath. I really want to eat a bowl of cereal in said jacuzzi tub (because I know how to par-tay), but I think room service probably won't just bring me a gallon of milk and a box of fruit loops, and if they do- I'm sure it will be exorbitantly over-priced.
So good night. And good morning.
And I'll see you around here again soon.