The Connection of Blogging Will Never Die

The Connection of Blogging Will Never Die

Within my first 15 minutes at a recent blogging conference, a man referred to a group of bloggers as “mommy bloggers.” Later, when I walked around to check out some brands, two more people referred to me as a mommy blogger. The next morning, someone else did as well.

Matt Logelin set them all straight when he said, “You’re not mommy bloggers. You’re women who blog.” (Even though I had wicked fat thumbs while tweeting that one. Whoa.) Throughout the rest of the conference, two more brands and three more speakers referred to me or a group of us as mommy bloggers in my ear shot.

Two years ago I still defended mommy blogging as a radical act. This year, as I’ve dipped my toe back into writing about adoption, I still believe the act of blogging about anything family, whether specifically personal or on a grander scheme, helps—and saves—us all.

Some just see personal stories. I see survivors of life living.

We’ve all lived through something. As no winners of the Pain Olympics actually exist, I don’t really care if you feel like someone else’s something isn’t “big” enough. We all live through and process pain in our own ways. And we live our lives in our own ways. And we share what parts of our story we can at any given moment in our own ways.

A lot of really hard things have been going on behind the scenes of my public life lately. Really, really hard things. Some are adoption related. Some are family unit related. Some are work related. Some are mental health related. All include aspects which make sharing about them in the public sphere, at least at this time, impossible.

But I show up here when I can, when I want, when I feel so inspired, and I share what I can. Because the connection of blogging still exists.

When people lose their jobs, or leave them, we care as a community. When marriages and relationships struggle and fail, we care as a community. When someone says, “Oh hey, I know I’m normally funny and happy, but I’m having a really hard time right now,” we care as a community.

The community of blogging is always what made blogging.

The “me too” factor. The connection found in the sharing of stories and experiences through word, image, and yes, even video now. We love and care for our community despite what click-bait titled articles say. We connect in all sorts of ways, not just through comment sections these days, but we surround each other with love and compassion and grace because it’s what makes the Internet’s heart beat.

Quality content creators will always exist on the Internet, whether through blogging or vlogging or the sharing of photos or whatever else awaits us in the future of the Internet. But beyond that, people seeking the connection and community now afforded us by the connectivity of our shared world will always exist on the Internet. Humans will always seek that connection, will always find a way to make it work.

Nothing is dead or dying. We’re still making connections and living despite it all.

 

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A New School Year

A New School Year

The house feels empty, sounds cavernous.

I kinda like it—and I don’t. All at once.

We went to Open House this past Thursday to drop off large bags full of school supplies and meet the teachers. I didn’t even sweat or fret over choosing what to wear. We lined all the boys’ friends in front of the school sign and snapped pictures. We swaggered down the hall like the parents of fifth and third graders.

This is old hat.

On Sunday night, we laid out clothes. We set alarms. We went over morning protocol.

Yesterday morning, BigBrother came out already dressed and ready to go before his alarm even went off, while I attempted to enjoy my first cup of coffee. In peace. LittleBrother launched out of his room at the sound of his alarm. How long before we all lounge around in bed too long and they miss the bus?

A new routine will fall upon us here in the next week or so. I already miss our summer. Miss sleeping in because that’s something both boys now seem capable of doing; it’s new, and it felt glorious. Miss lazy afternoons with no homework, no shuttling back and forth, no real worries. Miss the fact that they loaded the dishwasher after lunch all summer and now I have to do it. Ugh.

I like having my boys at home. Yes, they argued some this summer, but maybe less than last summer. Yes, they got bored and pestered us some this summer, but maybe less than last summer. They traveled. We traveled. We did what we wanted, not at the mercy of the school calendar.

The boys, both excited about returning to school, cursed the return to “no more freedom days.” And that’s the sting, really. We lose the freedom to do what we want, when we want.

They enjoy school, and I like their teachers. But, oh, I miss them, miss the freedom summer brings.

As a new school year begins, I hope these two will learn many new things, will find pride in their work, and most of all, will act with kindness toward their fellow students and with respect toward their teachers. Another summer will roll around. Until then, we’ll do the work set before us.

But I had a second cup of coffee this morning; new routines feel tiring.

A New School Year