So, this blog is a year old today. Like with the concept of email in the nineties, I was a little blind and slow to warm to the blogiverse, but look at me now. With a one-year-old blog and an eighteen month old baby and a nearly ten-year-old relationship and I’m still talking about pooping. A lot.
And you know what’s crazy? The first blog I read belongs to a woman in my neighborhood with a baby Bird’s age. She included her blogger link on her listserv signature, and I noticed, and I went there. And I still follow it, as she is a powerhouse of a mama and I feel connected to her since she unknowingly guided me to this public journaling madness that makes me a better writer and a better historian and a better examiner of the goings-on in my little life. And tonight, on my blogiversary, I met her in person at a mama-community event. Well well well. Circles and cycles, indeed.
So thank you for reading, and stick around if you’d like. Because Birdy turns two in about six months and that is going to be a joyful and headache-inducing wild ride. (She’s already started to shout “MINE!” at regular intervals, to no one in particular). And I’m going to be easing my little boat into the waters of massage therapy, and probably falling out and banging my shin on the rocks while the whole senior class stands on the shore and laughs at me because my swimsuit bottoms are wedged up my crack. And you may want to be there for that.