100 posts and counting

For a year now I have been unraveling the chaos that is my life in front of you. I have poured my grief, my joys, my struggles, my loves, my frustrations and my worries into my blog, sending it out there for judgment, encouragement, criticism or understanding. I have, in lieu of my failed attempt at scrapbooking, used it to document our family's adventures throughout 2008.

It began as a photo album, a journal, a record keeper, but it became so much more. My blog became a place to seek refuge. It transformed into a sounding board, an advice seeker, a stress reliever, a listener. And although, riddled with pictures of toothy smiles and rosy cheeks, it has maintained its duties as family historian, it is now a trusty non-judgmental companion.

And through your blogs I find the same thing. On rough days, when I am certain I cannot go on, positive that I have made a mistake when making the decision to replace business cards with sippy cups, I wander to a blog where I am reminded that feelings of failure and inadequacy are the norm and resonate throughout the blogging world. I feel less alone, more at ease while navigating without a manual through this thing they call parenting. I click on another post and am reminded that a few extra pounds does not a hippo make. And that the ponytail is the "in" thing this winter. I am more aware of the beauty and strength of women, inside and out.

I seek escape from my mundane (although lovely) life through various forms. I have lived vicariously through the famous mother/daughter duo of Stars Hollow (and felt for sure my life was ending when they took their last sip of coffee at Luke's) and I have lusted over a fictional teenage vampire. I have buried my nose in a book and immersed myself in the musical talents of others in an attempt to remove myself from the daily stresses of my life. And it usually works. The problem with those mediums is that they don’t talk back. Edward doesn’t know me from Adam. And that fictional town in Connecticut that I would pack my family up in a heartbeat to move to, well it just doesn’t exist. It is a very one-sided (albeit entertaining) form of escape.

That is why I am grateful for you, fellow bloggers. Not only do I feel we are privy to some secret society that posts allow you passage into, but I feel a strange connection to many of you who are (and probably always will be) hundreds of miles away. I feel you know me, quirks and all, and return despite it all. And, through your blogs I have not only come to know you, but appreciate your wit, your empathy and your insight.

You help me be a better mother, a more compassionate friend and a stronger woman. And when I fail at one or all of the above and blog all about it, you make me feel that is okay. So thank you. For your comments. For your blogs. For your wisdom. But mostly, for your understanding. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go clean up the aftermath of a “napping” 2-year-olds attempt at her own dirty diaper change. Fuel for post 101 perhaps?