Blogging is such a good thing. I have been able to turn my families' pictures and memories into hard bound books every year since i started. I think its a great way to keep in touch with people you normally probably wouldn't, and also a way to enjoy memories of people close to you with just a click. At first I told myself that I would feel comfortable sharing highs and lows with whoever is on my private reader list. But lately I have found myself hesitating at many of my thoughts and posts. I don't like it.
I recently heard someone's husband say that he doesn't like when his wife looks at blogs, because all it does is make her envy. Who is doing what, who just bought a house, graduated, got a new job, new car, took a nice trip, had a baby, has a perfect family. I had to (half) agree. I will admit I have felt envy after reading people's blogs. Who hasn't. Or felt that annoying feeling of inadequacy : I could be better physically, spiritually, more crafty, make better meals, make better memories, plan better vacations, be better with my writing, be more creative in my blogging, have better FHE's, teach my children more, have more patience, have a cleaner house, have a bigger family, have more friends, sign my kids up for more sports, host more get togethers, etc. Then there is the blogging pressure: have a better blogging layout, have more updates, have bigger pictures, better pictures, oh wait I need a new nicer camera, etc etc etc etc.
ahhh.
But mostly lately, I have been feeling like the daily little things just aren't being recorded.
Like today Kosty wore his warm jammies without throwing a fit that they "bodder" him, how when I got up this morning, he called for me, "Momma" and patted his hand down next to him because he wanted to snuggle with me in my bed, how I finally got my floors mopped after hmm, 3 months... how right after Brayden & I passed through an intersection on the way to school, there was a huge car accident, and i was front and center watching as multiple people were being worked on, including a small little girl (screaming & crying) was being consoled by a fireman. How when I got home, I found kosty still in his jammies doing his homework at the kitchen table. How Brayden helped me make dinner as part of his scout sign off--he chopped the chicken, snapped ends off of green beans, measured, poured, and stirred, and after we all devoured it (it was Chicken Helper, by the way. HA. it was SOO good & easy), he even loaded the dishwasher. How he had a half day today and we went to Subway which is our half day tradition, just me and him (kosty was at school) and he ate a whole footlong turkey sub. How he got to play at his best friend Alex's and how he thanked me a million times for letting him go. How the Relief Society popped in unexpectedly this evening when I had my zit cream on. How kind they were, and how (surprisingly) happy it made me to have them visit. How all three of them commented on seeing me run in the mornings and how embarrassed I was because lately I've been wearing these weird striped mittens I found in the garage, mismatched socks, and a weird headband to cover my ears. How I got kicked out of my usual yoga spot because kosty didn't want the tv off, and how I did it cramped up in my bathroom instead but it felt sooo great. How I ate my first (of MANY) Reese's BIG CUP, almost an entire bag of dark chocolate covered pomegranates, and a bowl of peanut butter cup ice cream after dinner. How Kosty insisted on making banana splits but was disgusted by the bananas covered in ice cream. How he cracked up at the Lebron James Nike commercial (when he eats the pink donut). How Brayden pulled the blanket over his eyes because he was scared of me & declared my bedtime song "creepy". How we read the longest Santa book ever at bedtime and in his workshop the boys noticed there were no electronics or video games, only wooden toys. How I went through old clothes for a certain family in need and wondered if I should just donate them all because I'm not sure if any more babies are coming our way afterall...
There are about a million 'posts' that enter my mind but never get to become one; because I don't want to seem like I am boasting. Nor complaining. And I hate that.
I tell myself I will write out those things that are more personal to me, but I never do. My hand gets tired. how lazy. Typing is more my thing.
Do I want my kids to know my fears and worries? Do I want them to read those someday? do I want them to read about our trials as a family someday? I do. I want them to know what trials we faced and how we overcame them or what we learned. I want them to know that life was good, but not easy. And I mostly want them to know about the day to day small stuff.
Maybe I'll find a solution in all of this someday other than setting it completely private. But when I think about that option, it feels so free. To write whatever I want, that would feel really good.
But I do love the interaction and the thoughtful comments from those that do comment. I'm just struggling to find a 'win win' as my dad would say...
