Sometimes I feel a little lost when it comes to the direction of this blog. I began it as a place to write. I have always been a writer and somewhere on my journey from books to blogs, this little piece of the internet happened. If I can be honest, I much prefer it -- this blog, this outlet -- when it comes to being able to write. And say what is on my heart. And, of course, remember the flecks of magic in these days that are passing too quickly. I am a writer, of course, and I am a mommy. These two things are equal parts my identity. It's hard to ignore the small walkways, the tiny, meandering paths that bring me off the main road a little bit: the healthy living, the recipes, the crafting, the Tot School. These are all part of my journey, these are all part of my family and so they, too, end up on this blog. It all does. Every bit of it. The good, the bad, the covered-in-paint, the if-my-husband-works-until-midnight-one-more-time-I-might-scream. The run-on sentences that I lust after, the dreams, the fears, the look-what-I-stayed-up-until-midnight-making. It's all me. It's all here. I find it hard then to answer what kind of blogger that I am, or what kind of blogger I strive to be. There isn't much striving going on. I blog as an honest documentation and representation of life, of my life -- all of it. Sometimes this means Tot School, sometimes this means craft projects, sometimes this means longwinded, meandering narratives because these things are all of me. I am always grateful for this space and those who frequent it.
Today I am also grateful for the same sticky weather I've spent so much time complaining about; grateful for Florida insisting upon making summer stick around a little longer. Ethan and I have spent the past three consecutive afternoons in the pool swimming -- really swimming -- and I've told him how proud I am of him so many times that he repeats it himself each time he pops up out of the water. "Mommy so proud you! Mommy so proud Ethan!" I mean, he's swimming and I feel like a gift card to Starbucks wasn't enough of a gift to his swim teacher in exchange for what she gave him. I don't just mean the ability to swim, but the confidence that comes with it. The love for the water. The pride in his eyes as he jumps in and kicks his way back to the steps, the wall. Wiping the water from his face with a giggle and letting himself belly flop back into the blue water.
Tonight I rocked Ethan to sleep for a little bit longer than usual. I half-sang, half-hummed our usual repertoire of nighttime songs (which includes Guns 'n Roses because, let's face it, I'm a pretty cool mom like that) and then just rocked. Silently. The room dark and quiet aside from the soft hum of his favorite lullaby CD that a friend sent from Australia. Sometimes I feel sad that Ethan is growing up so quickly and other times I just want to breathe it in a little longer, every moment of it, because I love it so much. This stage is one of imagination and storytelling, of strong opinions and asserting independence while still ensuring mommy isn't too far behind. It is one that keeps me guessing, laughing and in dire need of a second cup of coffee by noon. And I love it.