Finding my voice

So as you can tell, I struggle with the blog - there are so many different directions my brain goes, and I'm not sure which of them would make the best premise for blogging.

One of the things I've read recently says you need to find a hook for your blog, write to it, plan out posts for different days of the week, get your posting schedule prepared, and basically treat it like another job. I'm not sure if I'm at that place, or if I even want to be a Professional Blogger (TM) - I just want to write, and I find myself not making the time for that.

Jon Acuff posted recently about how, in order to find your writing voice, you have to write. Period. And this comes from the guy who finally acknowledged the V-neck shirt progression of our worship leaders, as well as the Random Scarf - he knows his stuff, y'all.

A friend from high school (with whom I used to participate in Scholar's Bowl back in The Day) calls her blog Jamie's Rabbits, which is kind of cool because she can chase whatever mental rabbits she chooses and it all fits. Work, baking, television, books, family, holidays, crafts, cake (mmmm... cake) you name it. But she can WRITE about it, because there is no niche there. It's just Jamie, chasing whatever rabbit pops in her head that day. I cannot take the rabbit analogy, but it's kind of where I see this going.

John's called me a magpie sometimes, because I get distracted by the shiny. Several years ago, I had this friend with whom I could have these long, drawn-out discussions that started off about what we wanted to eat at a restaurant, and by the time our meal was over, we'd talked about Tesla (the scientist, not the band), commitment-phobes, our favorite books, why people who wear Crocs need intervention, Alton Brown, the crisis in the Middle East, and the sale at Nordstrom Rack. Not necessarily in any sort of order, and we'd bounce around from one thing to another. That's kind of how my mind works.

So, in order to find my voice, I'm just going to write whenever I can. No pressure to find a marketable topic and treat it like a business. Just me, writing about whatever shiny thing I've noticed. Now, to figure out an appropriate name...


Hey look, I'm still alive!

Clearly  I'm running for Worst Blogger Ever. So my goal is just to blog when I can, even if it's not particularly awesome in content. To get there, you have to get moving, right?

The main thing taking our time at home lately is Sarah and her teeth. When she started teething at three months, I have to admit for a minute there I thought "hey, maybe we'll get this over with fairly quickly." (I'll pause here so the parents who might be reading can catch their breath from laughing over that thought.) So we're putting pacifiers and teething rings in the freezer, using Tylenol and teething tablets to help, particularly at night, and trying to explain to a 16 month old that this does not last forever, promise.

Sometimes it's kind of hard to believe Sarah is already 16 months old (nearly 17) and walking all over the place. She's going through this Mama-centric phase, so I have to watch where I step because she might be behind me, and I kind of already stepped on her foot once and don't particularly want to have to soothe for that again, because I really felt bad about it. If John and I are in a room and he has his arms open saying "come to Daddy" she will turn around and run to me, even if my arms are full of something, or I'm otherwise occupied. It's not that I don't love having her around, but sometimes I do sort of look forward to the Daddy Phase, just so I can go to the bathroom in peace.

(And yeah, all those stories about little hands under the door? I totally get you now. When I shower, I have to close doors so Sarah does not try to pull back the curtain and get in with me.)

On the plus side, she is mimicking me in good ways. The other day she took a wipe and started wiping off the toilet lid while I was cleaning the bathroom. She'll find little things on the floor and bring them to one of us, and is not happy until you take it, and then we have to clap. It makes cleaning take a lot longer, but at least she's learning.

Oh, and we may be raising the Accessory Queen. She loves to put on these beads we got at the Mardi Gras party at church, along with one of those little rubber awareness bracelets, and whatever bag she can get her hands on to put over the other arm (because naturally we don't put our bracelet and our bag on the same arm. It's all about balance, y'all.)

Now if I can just teach her that Uggs and Crocs are no-nos, and that pattern mixing is not always a good idea, we will be well on our way to raising a well-adjusted young lady.