Attempting to write a blog post while the toddler is awake and free range is akin to digging a hole for a fence post with a spoon: it’s not efficient, it’s frustrating, you spend a lot of time staring at the project wondering if it’s worth the effort, and, ultimately, you’ll just end up pissed off with a chipped nail.
But I can’t justify drinking before lunch, so write I will.
I guess since the baby’s turned a year, I’ve felt a bit nostalgic… about EVERYTHING. Also: in 10 short days, the hubby and I will have been together for 10 years.
::end writing 9:23 a.m. due to melt down::
::resume 9:42 a.m.::
It’s a bit unbelievable that it’s been 10 years. We were marveling about it a bit over the weekend. The biggest thing that’s changed is our priorities. A night of watching documentaries on Netflix and taking the kid to the park is our big fun now. We still socialize but with almost completely different people and for almost completely different reasons. And we’re okay with that.
And I think that’s why I get so torked about writing here. Or blogging in general. I’ve been at this for the better part of 13 years. Criminitely! I need to give myself some slack! I’m not 23 anymore. I’m not the same person, I don’t write the same. I think I went through a similar “holy crap” moment 10 years ago when I was so bummed I didn’t write like I did when I was 14. Duh, dummy! You grew up! Same applies now.
I guess I have delusions of being bigger than I actually am. And why does it matter so damn much? Truth: it doesn’t.