I've been thinking about my writing on the blogs lately. Mostly here, as Ordinary Life Magic is mostly family history, and I don't ramble on very often.
I think I started to really feel comfortable with writing here when I read about Soule Mama's book. She put her blog into a book, via Blurb. Brilliant!
Oh yes. A project that definitely that speaks to my heart.
I never really got into the babybooks, though I did try. It just seemed sort of forced, if you see. Now I understand why, as the things I hold dear are much different than a first birthday card, or stickers decorating a picture of a tot in the bathtub. That just doesn't resonate with me.
The desire to blog/keep track may be a mortality issue. I thought at first that I perhaps want my children to know my mind, to maybe understand why I made some of the choices that I did. But that isn't quite it. That seems to beg their approval or forgiveness for mistakes. I'm not asking for that.
It's more important that they just know that I am crazy about them, and that I am trying to change my thoughts around to better honor and support who they are.
I've been full of words my whole life. Sometimes they come out of my mouth when I'm so filled up with them I just have to explode. Always they are swimming through my head, sometimes disjointed and random, at others connecting and clicking together, demanding that I sit down for a while and try to set them free.
So as I'm becoming more comfortable with writing - the rhyme and reason- I've decided to just celebrate this part of myself. It is, after all, a huge part of who I am.