When I started this website, my “Author Page”, I thought it of it as a way I could possibly market myself and my books to my meager (read: currently non-existent) audience. And I had never blogged before, but wordpress is first and foremost a blogsite so I figured it was as good a time as any to try it out. And since the blog was on said author page, I had notions of writing about writing. About detailing my journey as an aspiring author. About inspiring fellow writers to write.
But I’m going to be honest with you. The writing process is slow. The self-publishing process is tedious and slow. Waiting for my first book to become available to the public is slooooooowww. And I really can’t seem to find much to write about day to day, or even week to week.
The only things I have to write about each day are parenting things. I’m a mother to three and most days it consumes my entire existence. And I know some might say that is an old-fashioned way of looking at things, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because, you see, I absolutely LOVE being a mother. It is my entire heart and soul and I don’t see that as a sacrifice. And since motherhood is my first and foremost life, why shouldn’t it also be the primary subject of this blog? Yes, I still hope to detail my writing progress, struggles and successes. Yes, I still hope to use my website as a marketing tool (please, bare with me, sometimes self-promotion is the only promotion there is)…but I want my readers (ok, ok, future readers) to know who I am. And who I am is a mom.
So today, for example, the most memorable thing that happened to me is this:
Our whole little family of five sat around our homebuilt-from-a-kit breakfast nook and all tried radishes for the first time. Really! I had never had a radish in my whole life! (Maybe my mom never liked them as a child and so never served them when I was a child? Who knows.) So when my six-year-old daughter asked me what they were last week, and showed an interest in eating them, I of course added them to the grocery list. And tonight was the night we all dipped them in ranch and crunched away. Even the one-year-old took a bite! I can’t really say that it was an enjoyable experience but nobody cried (except the one year old) and I feel I can call it a successful parenting moment because it was a real world lesson about discovering new things/experimenting/healthy eating/follow-through/etc.
That is my life. That’s the sort of thing I have to talk about on a regular basis. So for those of you hoping to read about a writer’s successes and failures, bare with me. Because while I’m sure there will be some tales about that, there will be many more like the one I just told: everyday life, with kids, crammed in a breakfast nook.