Do you ever ask yourself – what’s it all mean?
Could there really be something more?
Maybe not necessarily referring to the way we live our lives, but rather the choices we make that mold us into the people we are today.
For about three months, my blog has remained untouched. Sure, I still get the daily notices that someone has “enrolled” onto my blog page, other times I get Twitter notifications that someone has agreed to follow me. And, then my Facebook page has gradually been receiving more and more views, and a few more “likes” here and there.
But those are just numbers adding up to virtually nothing.
For me, blogging has been my way of venting. Yet while I consider it “venting” others call it bitching. Either way, they are my words based on the way I am feeling as a woman, wife and mother at any given moment in my life.
One aspect of life my followers know is that I am bold and do not bow down to adversity.
But at what point does that translate into “she doesn’t like being a mom” or “she doesn’t love her kids.”
It doesn’t. It never has.
Not every day is full of rainbows and unicorns. Not every day is wonderful.
But I am blessed that I get to live every day.
I have been trolling sites for blog jobs, but more and more often, those sites are aiming to hire bloggers with a passion for something.
Well, I hate cooking – so those gigs are out.
I craft, but it’s not my passion to explore every faucet of Pinterest in the hopes of creating something more amazing than the hand-painted wine bottles decorating various parts of my house. (If you want one, by the way, let me know – I have six currently sitting on shelves collecting dust.)
I do, however, enjoy gardening and planting flowers. Do people really want to know what I plant in my garden year after year? Do people really want to know that for the life of me, the soil in my garden produces rotten tomatoes every single year since I began gardening in 2007?
Maybe they do; maybe they don’t.
Yet the reason why I blog isn’t too tell others how to live their life, or to even complain about my own life.
The reason I blog is to let other parents around the world know they are not alone.
Parents in Oregon are dealing with the same teenage drama that storms through my house at 4:35 p.m. every day.
Parents in England are dealing with preparing meals that their second-graders deem “poison” as they dissect every single piece of food that touches their plate.
Mothers are overworked. Fathers are underappreciated. And somewhere in the mix, are trying to find the reason they fell in love and got married in the first place in between carting their children to every single extra-curricular activity known to mankind.
That is why I blog.
I guess I just needed to remind myself why too.