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I like my blog.
It's not life-changing, awe-inspiring, motivational, or even income-producing. It's just one stupid blog out there in the vastness of the Internet along with every other blog written by every other mother who steals away for a few moments of time to click away at the keys.
Not unique, not special, nothing extraordinary in any way.
Perhaps that's why so often I feel like this space is an extension of me.
When posts don't show up for a while, I am likely either in a busy season of life or something has made my heart quiet. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but I'd be lying if I said it never was. There are times when I can't write something funny because I can't find my laughter. There are other times when I want nothing more than to lighten the mood and make someone shoot Diet Coke out of their nose.
For the record, it hurts when you do that.
But it's so strange being a blogger sometimes. I know that the people around me are reading - friends, co-workers, family, college classmates I haven't spoken to in years, total strangers. They read and they react. I get emails, texts, Facebook messages, and sometimes phone calls about what I blogged. Sometimes they show support, other times they are concerned. They express sympathy, validation, and sometimes ream me out in anger.
Comes with the territory.
I like my blog. But sometimes we don't get along very well.
