In All Honesty

I sometimes wonder where I'm going with this.

The immediate, clear-cut answer is: it's just a blog, about my family, for my family and friends to enjoy.

But what if it's not?  Now that I've started scratching that "writing itch," it gets my mind wandering throughout the day to the edges of possibility- those crazy, abstract places that used to send me skittering away behind that nasty block I've hidden behind whenever anything academic was required of me.  I would always say to myself, I'm not a bad writer, I just hate doing it for school.  And that is all very true, but I think it's about more than just my dislike of chewing up and spitting out information that is only vaguely interesting to me, in a format that I feel simultaneously claustrophobic within the limits of and too perfectionistic to work without.  It's mostly about fear. 

Fear of my limitations, and perhaps even more of my capabilities. 

What happens if I really have something worthwhile to offer?  Should I stick with my simple Mommy blog formula, with its cutesy stories and completely amateur pictures?  Or should I come up with things to say, and say them? 

Or would I even reach anyone if I did? 

I'll admit, as much as I keep reminding myself that "it's just a little blog for friends and family" in order to keep myself focused and plugging along, I'm spending more time than I'd like to admit, face to the computer screen, tracking those stats.  I'm boasting a maximum of 39 page views for any one post, which, I'm quite certain include many of my own, despite my frequent attempts to instruct blogger not to count me.  And I'm starting to feel frustrated about it, for reasons I can't quite understand.

I know that there are ways to get myself out there.  To become a presence in the blogosphere.  And I've begun to explore it now, myself, for the first time- reading other blogs, seeing what they're about.  Which, I suppose, is what has spurred this little mini-crisis tonight.  I'm asking the inevitable questions about how I compare to them, in terms of writing style, photography, quality of content.

And what is the quality of my content?  Well, it's about my family, which is everything to me.  I suppose I shouldn't worry so much about what it is to anyone else, though I know that I will.

I do know one thing that I want in this blog above all else, though.  And that is what is honest, and what is real.  That I can promise, to myself; to my readers (however many there may be).  And I suppose that is all the focus that I need right now.

That, and some quality time spent reminiscing about those kids of mine...

Recalling the joyous moment that Tom and I spent this morning, celebrating the momentous occasion of two back-to back shifts of over two hours from little Michael through the night (he slept from 8:30-11:30 and then from 12:00-3:30; it got a little touch-and-go after that but man, was that a victory).

Making mental notes of all of the achievements that I've yet to brag on for little Abby.  Like how she knows all of the colors of the rainbow, plus pink, black, and white, and has since 18 months old.  And how she's starting to understand numbers, and can count to two.  How she's down to one nap a day, and has been since the middle of last week.  How she lined up her bath toys on the edge of the tub this evening, which I found to be so adorable that I just had to snap a picture:

Please excuse the lovely grime.

Because, in the end, no matter what I am writing about, I am writing.  And that is a pretty big deal, after all.