Seven summers ago, surrounded by elementary aged kids and an incessantly shedding dog, I had a grand idea to start a blog.
Spending my mornings sipping coffee and stringing words was my escape from dish-filled sinks and mounting laundry.
The blog grew in popularity, with at least a handful of readers and eventually spawned into a nice little writing life- a freelance life.
Freelance, as I soon learned, had little to do with its root word: free. I had little free time and little free money, as I worked tirelessly to claim a life of self-employment.
It was much like a dusty treadmill, it's great when you're into exercising, but on the days that you're not- well, it's a dusty nuisance where you may or may not stub your toe. In other words, sweet little gigs have a nice payout, but time in between waiting for said gigs can make one feel as if they are unemployed. It's a scary little trap.
Fast forward to the year 2016, where my oldest is preparing for college, my middle child is loading up on high school honors classes, and my youngest is learning the art of checking in ice hockey. I leave the house everyday and work at a job with real people and sip from a mug of coffee. Sure, I blog less, but I still feel, I feel my Mommy years slipping away and my snarky rants about feuding children less amusing or worthy of reading. I find myself watering plants, fussing over my newest manicure, and devouring a book, while waiting for teenagers to return home. A lot has changed, while some things have not. Milestones get me less weepy and I have allowed my kids to grow up.
And that is all.
