This is what my girls looked like when I started blogging, nearly six years ago:
They were 3 and barely 1 at the time. Today they are 9 and 6. Some days my 9-year-old seems like she is going on 19, while other days she is full throttle little girl and I kiss the top of her blonde head and the smell and feel of her soft head transports me to days of sippy cups and silliness and nights of board books and baths. Some days my 6-year-old is a wise old soul with knowledge beyond her years and other days she is a whirling dervish of quirkiness and silly. Every day I marvel at who they are becoming and all that the future will hold.
I could tell you about the cute story Miss A shared about recess yesterday, but that is her story.
I could tell you about the conversation that Miss C and I had at bedtime, but that is her story.
I won’t stop blogging. I love writing way too much. I love the community in the blogosphere and the networking and all things social media.
But I will likely start telling a little more of my story, because at some point the stories I share about my children are not really mine to share any more and it is something I consider more and more. I will continue to write more about travel, because it is something I love, and wine, because well. WINE. I will likely write about our girl Bailey because she would have been 14 this fall.
I know I’m not the only blogger out there who feels this way as their kids get older.
One day you are blogging between deadlines and diaper changes (my first blog tag line years ago) and the next day you are forgetting to blog because you were driving your kids around all afternoon to soccer practice and Googling Venn Diagram because you are the clueless in math parent.
Their life is unwritten. It’s not my place to write about it for them.
p.s. Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield is one of my favorite songs…if you’ve never really listened to the lyrics, please do!