Sometimes it’s easiest to be non-commital.

I took such a long break from writing in my blog that I thought it had died.  Thanks so much, motherhood journey.  It’s been fun to try and name you, tell my stories, express my thoughts, find a voice.  But it ain’t working.  I don’t want to go there today, or tomorrow.

A lot has transpired since my kitchen was remodeled.  I’ve been a busy bee, cooking up a storm, watching TV, chatting with other moms, going places where little boys can run wild.  I even worked a freelance job and got paid enough to cover the purchase of my new computer.  Lots of goodness!  While I was staying quiet, I lurked.  I read all of your blogs.  I found some new ones.  I read, I surfed.  I asked myself WHY I need to join the party.  What if I don’t feel like sharing?  I was growing lonely, yet again.  Motherhood has been a struggle for me, socially.  Normally I would say that I make friends quite easily.  I can talk to almost anyone at a party, the grocery store, whatever.  But these days it is Katherine plus a rambunctious, stubborn two-year-old.  And another baby on the way.  Yeah, did I mention?

I’m pregnant.  I certainly wanted another baby, and I am getting what I wanted.  So I wondered, “Do I want to talk about this one online?  Isn’t the occasional facebook photo enough to keep my family happy?  Is my life really interesting to anyone at all?”  Most importantly…

When I go through my successes and failures, do I really want to open that up to anyone and everyone’s eyes?

These really, truly were my concerns.  I never believed that I’d get so popular that thousands of people would be reading my words and passing judgement.  No, not at all.  I know I have about 8 followers, plus the occasional lurker (because I LURK big time.)  I guess I just wanted to feel a wee bit more private because everything in my life was making me sensitive.  And then, today, I got over it.  I had a lucky day where my toddler went down for a nap without a peep or protest.  Very rare.  He also sat down and read a book for 10 minutes while I did laundry.  It felt serene and smooth, and strange.  I wasn’t ready to rip my hair out, scream at him, or anything like that.  I felt good and I wanted to share.  Simply that.  So here’s where I stand.  When I’m unhappy, I won’t hide it.  If I bought something cool at Target, I’ll show you.  If I had a shitty day, I’ll say so.  Please continue to the same, alright?