We were young once......and bloggers.

Song: "This house is not for sale," Ryan Adams.

I wrote this entry in my head, whilst working on my cherry-cheese pie, and might only recall a third of what I felt compelled to share.

Having made yet another return to the blog-world, I am fascinated by the way the blogger is immediately committed to the blog. None might read it, it might be left unvisited for a month, but the words are out there, and the burden of being unknown is somehow lifted.

This might not make any sense, but I´ll give it a try. There is something magical about it- about blogging. It is a relatively new phenomenon, but it has impacted us (especially our generation) so extensively. As much as I might hate the internet, and sometimes I do really abhor it, (hence my dramatic departure from fb, among other things) the concept of blogging is quite beautiful.

Just a few years ago, it seemed like we were all part of it. Old High School buddies, keeping up with one another through blog-posts and photos, writing ridiculous stories collectively, and tagging one another to do surveys. We had lists on our pages with links that made it so easy to stay in touch: one click, and we were redirected to so-and-so´s blog.
I loved it. But then weeks started to go by without an entry, months without a comment... our blogs died a slow death. Some of us made new attempts, but most of the blogs were left untouched, not to be revived again. I´ve revisited them from time to time, hoping to encounter a surprise update..... rarely did I find one.
So, now I read the blogs of strangers; in hopes of finding some connection, or a point of reference there, I suppose. The blogs that I read are good- very good. Blogs of mothers & fathers who have made their living (grand, in certain cases) by blogging about their stay-at-home parenthood; enviable people! Their entries boast not a dozen, not a hundred, NO, thousands(!!) of comments. I get excited when I find just two on my own page!
I still wonder, despite the quality of these blogs, how they create such an empire (it really is!), and where they find such a following. These bloggers write decent entries, and they include funny and embarrassing anecdotes, but their stories are still so mundane. Perhaps that is exactly why people read them. It, the blog-hype, says a lot about us all: it proves that we are desperate for (and commited to) community.

It might be more of a big deal for me, as I spend my entire day at home with a toddler for a conversation-partner. I ache for interaction. This is why I check so many blogs so many times a day; I am just doing the reading, in most cases, but it is about the closest I get to feeling connected.

And then there is the blogger´s battle, the constant attempt to find a balance between sharing one´s thoughts (achieving a sense of being understood/known) and maintaining the necessary amount of privacy. That is the reason I abandoned blogging several times. One blogs because one wants to be known & form part of a greater community of thinkers and feelers. One stops blogging because it invades too much of one´s life.
I am especially vulnerable to this, because I act on my impulses. Thus, when I feel somewhat lonely one day, I might start a blog. However, whenever something (anything) convinces me that I have shared too much of my thoughts, I might delete the blog. And then regret it. And then regret writing a particular entry, or including a specific detail. It is a juggling-act. I have often dropped the juggling-balls.

This is why I can´t guarantee that this blog will have a long life-span. My guess is this: there will be a direct correlation between the frequency of my updates and my social and/or professional life. (even though friends & work do provide food for thought)
In other words, I am rather bored and unoccupied (ahem...lonely) at the moment: hence, I´ve written three entries in three days. So, perhaps I am hoping not to write too many entries in the months ahead. Or perhaps I would just really love it if you would all join me & revive your own blogs.

Now, I have a cherry-cheese pie to tend to. And a daughter who is waking up from her 3-hour nap..

laters.

Hanging around

song: "Morning Yearning", Ben Harper.



Daniel bought me this lovely little journal yesterday.... so, I can finally begin to write to/about this new baby. I feel bad to have left it for so long... I wrote in two different journals while expecting Ari, AND kept up a blog in her honor.

See what I´ve done to myself?? I thought it would be a good idea to test if the iron was actually on: it has left two little scar-lines on my fingers.

The village green:
Having lived in the middle of nowhere for about half a year now, I have discovered that I am not a village-person. Ari and I are bored out of our wits. I still have visions of myself standing on a hill of a shire-like village, surrounded by sheep and cows.... but this does not come close.
It is too hot, too dry: I wonder how anything can survive here. We spend most of the day trying to avoid the sun; staying inside, wishing we could be elsewhere.
I much prefered living here when we were snowed in: there was something romantic about that, at least. Oh well. We plan to be back in the civilized world in the fall.

Change:
Daniel and I live haphazardly. For all the thinking, speculating, and dreaming we do, we rarely actually plan anything, which means that we usually just end up where the winds of change take us. This might just be the reason why I am always ready for the next place, the next change. If only we would just make a decision, set a goal, and work toward that... I wouldn´t be so restless. Maybe. I am so inspired by change. I might even say I am a bit addicted to it. It must have something to do with this:

"I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life...to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
*Henry David Thoreau

(although I am not planning to go live in the wood, as much as it appeals to the imagination).

This is why I am considering the option of going to graduate school....for a second time. The degree I already have isn´t going to open the doors that I want to walk through. It might, by some unexpected turn in events, help me become a High School teacher, but I´d rather be better "equipped" to do a multitude of things... The thought of teaching a group of 15-year olds what a particular poem means (an idea I don´t support to begin with) just doesn´t inspire me.
In fact, I don´t think I would enjoy teaching at all, unless I could teach the "real" stuff: i.e. the college-level courses that so inspired me.

The problem is, once again, that I can´t just drop everything I am doing (mothering, that is) and run off to college. It would have to be planned out very carefully, prepared for financially, etc.
I am just hoping/dreaming that I won´t have to wait until I am forty years old to return to college. I have forgotten enough of what I have learned just in the last two years. Ten or fifteen years would put me back at the High School level, I fear, or worse. "William Shakespeare´s timeline ???? Um... the Romantic age?" See what I mean???

Fickle, much??

Singing: "Losing my religion" by R.E.M.

I just can´t seem to stay away. This is, what, my fourth blog?

Several months ago, I made the rash & radical decision to delete my blogs and to quit using the web to stay "connected." I might as well have moved into a cave. The sensation that I was hoping for- the tranquility of being out of touch- lasted for about two days. Then I started to miss all the random updates and the casual notes that seemed so irrelevant and monotonous before.
As it turns out, I depend as much on "connection" as the rest of you. And, sadly, closing my fb-account reduced my interaction-level from being regular to practically non-existent.
So, I am back. At least as a blogger.

Being a Mama:
Ari is a baby no more, and her sibling is well on her/his way. That´s right, I´m 15 weeks pregnant, and a whole lot fatter than I was 4 months ago. I mention the "fat!" part just because it has bothered me a great deal to see the weight accumulate about twice as fast as it did in my first pregnancy. Last time around, pregnancy boosted my self-esteem. Honestly, I didn´t feel self-conscious until week 41 or so. Now, I actually try to avoid mirrors.
Most second-time (or third, fourth,fifth, eleventh....-time) mothers would probably agree.
As our bodies lose their shape, pregnancy loses a bit of its charm.

Everything is different. Not necessarily worse, but definitely different. I am not whining, I am just agreeing with the millions of mothers who warn first-time mothers that the second time around:
*we would not daydream half as much about the state we´re in
*months would fly by before we would even think about writing booklong letters to our awaited children
*and we might look like we´re in the final trimester before we´ve even ended the first.

I am starting to sound like one of those mothers who can only think about dirty diapers, midnight meltdowns, and temper-tantrums when the word "motherhood" comes up.... but I assure you, I am still the happiest and proudest of mothers.
It has just surprised me that my second pregnancy, too, is different from the first.

When I found out about my first pregnancy, I started a journal immediately. I walked around feeling magnificent and alive as if in another dimension. Now, there are days when I don´t even think about being pregnant. I don´t worry about the weight I carry in my arms or how much I have rested, because I spend my days running after an energetic toddler & carrying her 11 kilos up and down the stairs and across town.

Still, I am curious about this new baby, and so eager to meet him/her. It is just funny that everything about this second child seems so defined by Ari & is inevitably measured by our experiences with her.

Being me:
On the bus this morning, I reflected upon my life (as I tend to do while on the bus) and realized that I´ve crammed a decade worth of experiences into a couple of years. (Hence the title of this blog.) I got married, went to graduate school, lived in 3 different countries, got my Spanish driver´s license, and am twice a mother (well, sort of). Most (sensible) people take their time. They begin to chase their dreams when they are 25... I feel like I´m all out of dreams to chase.
Although I love what I´ve lived and done, sometimes I fear that I have nothing left to do. I don´t want to become one of those women who lives vicariously through her children.
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Alright. I´ll keep this one short.
It´s good to be back. I´m hoping to stick around for a while.