Before I begin, I want to thank each and every person who reads this faithfully and enjoys it each Tuesday and Thursday (give or take) I post an entry. For those of you who have been encouraging, have asked I publish things, etc. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, believe me when I say this, the encouragement makes a difference. For those of you who get a chuckle and let me know it made your day, I really do appreciate it.
And for the record, I only have about 50 regular readers of this blog. Sometimes, though, it can be that one out of the 50 who really can put a taint upon the rest. So here goes...
I really thought I should clarify something. I almost feel pretentious having to say this stuff, but it needs to be said. Well, I feel pretentious writing a blog as it is anyway, but what I'm about to type out is something I think you should know. Maybe you shouldn't - I don't know - I just think it needs to be said.
I don't write this blog for your entertainment. I know I post when I've updated on Twitter and Facebook, but that's not really so you'll come scrambling to this blog and hang on every word, story, or entry I put up here. That's not the purpose of this blog. That's not why I do this. Its certainly not why I stay up late at night trying to decide what I'm going to post next Thursday. I do that so that you can peak inside a window into my brain and see what's going on in my world.
In all truth, I really only do this for two people.
Myself and my daughter. More people if you count the kids to be named later - not pregnant, just hoping to be again someday.
Last week someone was upset enough by my blog to text me and tell me how one of my blog entries wasn't what they thought it should have been and said, I'll paraphrase because I deleted the text, "it wasn't much of a blog and was more a personal essay." I was probably a little harsh in my response but to be honest, there's some truth to that. This blog is my personal essay. Its mine. If I wanted to write the word "balderdash" five million times as one entry, I can do that. But I don't.
I write this blog because, on some level, I always wanted to be an author. Unfortunately, I probably have half the drive to write an actual book and even less know-how. Its a great outlet for my creativity, for me to share stories about my parenting skills (or lack of), and to leave behind something for my kid(s) to read someday and have a laugh about.
And, not to sound morbid, but should something unexpected happen to me, its a way for them to get to know me should they never get that chance.
Maybe that's a little over-dramatic for you but here's some facts you may not know:
I currently work in a pretty dangerous job. I won't go into a lot of details, but it isn't uncommon for us to hear gunshots just down the street from a house we're visiting. Sometimes, though it doesn't happen that often, the gunshots ring out not long after we leave, or arrive. At the house we're visiting.
There's a reason I wear a bullet-proof vest at my job. It ain't cause I like the extra pockets.
I also lost my mom unexpectedly almost 7 years ago. While I knew her, its a constant reminder that nobody knows the day or the hour their time here on earth is up.
So, many times when I write this blog, its not for your entertainment, but for my kids who may grow up not really knowing me. Over-dramatic? Maybe. But if nothing else I want them to someday look back and read this and learn from my mistakes and maybe even have a laugh at my expense.
I've been writing this blog for almost three years now. Want to know how much money I've made? None.
Want to know how many magazines have called wanting to publish one of my entries? Zip.
Want to know how many jobs I've been offered for writing this blog? Zilch.
Want to know how much I care if someone wants to tell me how I've ruined their day because my blog didn't meet their standards? Zero.
If you're entire week is so gloomy that reading about my parenting failures is the only joy you get, then its time you start working on your own life and stop trying to tell me how to write about mine.
I know this sounds harsh, maybe even a little mean, but anybody who has ever written and poured their heart into something only to have someone else stomp on it may understand. Not every article in your newspaper is going to win an award. Not every book you read will sell a million copies. Not every blog I post is going to tug on your heart strings.
Get over it and just enjoy it. If you can't, well, then I'm so very sorry that there is someone standing next to you holding a gun to your head forcing you to read my rantings.
Okay, that is the first, last, and only time I will ever write that out.
Thank you.
