Death of a Mom Blog

“…Her feed is filled with pretty objects like cooling pies and evergreen sprigs tucked into apothecary vases, with hardly any chaos in sight.

This is the “mommy Internet” now. It’s beautiful. It’s aspirational. It’s also miles from what motherhood looks like for many of us — and miles from what the mommy Internet looked like a decade ago.”

A decade ago? Decade?! In the vanity of my aging, it was that word that stuck in my craw when I first read Sarah Pulliman Bailey’s piece in the Washington Post. Did this blogging thing start that long ago and has it really changed all that much? Am I that old? 

In answering those questions, and actually reading the rest of the article, I had to accept a few things that were frankly, a little hard to swallow.  Could holding a mirror up, answering those questions, also mean the death of a mom blog, this blog?  

I sort of fell into blogging. While listing to the radio during my daily route as chauffeur to four kids, one in middle school, one in elementary school, one in preschool and one still on the boob, I caught a segment about technology that featured a popular blogger. Blogger? Um, what is that? I honestly had no clue, there weren’t any bloggers on Sesame Street after all so why would I know? 

That day I went home and Googled the term. What I found out was that a blogger was just a person with a keyboard and a penchant for over-sharing. Hey, I could be a blogger. The next day I was. And I loved it to the point that I’d sometimes post several times a day. If I couldn’t have actual adult conversations with actual adults in the real world, I’d take to the interwebs! 

Somewhere along the way, I found my voice and my community. And then, I lost it. 

In those early days, it was mostly about the kids because, well, having kids makes most everything mostly about them. But, it wasn’t always. Some of my more popular posts came from series I ran like, Fit Pitchin’ Fridays and guest posts by guys during Manuary. Somewhere along the way, I started to talk about what it was like to live as an expat and to travel with kids. That may be where things started to change. 

I began to make money from the words I’d share, the pictures I’d take, and the skills I’d been building. This blog would take me across the globe, into the White House, onto the pages of the Washington Post and USA Today. It would open doors and give me and those that read this blog glimpses into places rarely seen.

Somewhere along the way, I lost that sense of community, my voice – though still honest – wasn’t as open and unedited as it used to be.  The blog had become business, and that isn’t a bad thing just something different from what it began as. 

The only thing that is constant is change ~ Heraclitus

I’m guilty of sharing an edited life, online. I take beautiful pictures of food in a kitchen that is part of a house that is nearly always a hot mess. I brag about my kids but I no longer believe that the ultimate measure of my success is how well-adjusted my children are. I go to amazing places and take shots with a very narrow lens. I eat too many carbs, drink too much cheap wine, and have a wardrobe of yoga pants that have never seen a minute on the mat. I curse like a sailor (because I was one, so I get a pass there) but fuck if I’ll do it in writing. I hate that my husband is aging better than I am while I have watched hair fall from my head only to migrate south, taking up residence on my upper lip and chin. 

I am not perfect. My life is not a curated Instagram feed. I suffer from so much self-doubt that I could probably use some therapy.  All of that said though, I still love this blog and hope at least a few of you will keep reading even through a few sponsored posts and a whole lot more unedited me. 

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