My husband has been encouraging me to start blogging again for a couple years. I have been wanting to as well, but with two littles constantly demanding my attention, I haven’t made it a priority. But I still have lots to say and almost every day I find myself thinking that would be worth sharing on my hypothetical blog.
Yesterday I was sitting at Chick Fil-A with a couple friends and we were watching my kids play in the play area. Somehow in the course of our conversation, blogging came up and when I shared with them that I used to blog, they both told me I should write again. About parenting. That I was a good mom and should share my experiences. I had two thoughts …
1. HA HA HA! Good one, guys.
2. There are already a zillion mommy blogs out there. Why would mine be any different?
But since that conversation, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. And this morning as I was tweeting a thought from a parenting book I was reading, I realized that resuming my blog would be more for me than for anyone reading it. Because I’ve discovered something weird about myself. When I write, I’m able to think critically. I can reason through something much more coherently than when I talk.
So if someone stumbles across this blog and finds value in what I’ve written, great. Yay, God – thanks for using me. But I’m truly writing for me. To have a place to process my experiences. To share and celebrate my successes.
Are you ready?
Ha! This is what I’m doing, too. I figured that at least my grandma would read it, and the main thing was writing to sort out my thoughts and experiences about parenting. Now I’m really excited to keep up with you doing the same thing.