On March 2nd, 2012, I hit “publish” on this post, and justlikethat set into motion a six-year adventure that has resulted in 566 expositions detailing my life, my family, my opinions, my reactions, my observations, and, naturally, my favorites.
The blog looked a lot different six years ago.
So did my girls, who for years on the blog I referred to at “Thing 1” and “Thing 2,” monikers that somehow faded along with my ideas and motivation to write about them as much as I originally did.
Six years ago I had little girls.
Now one is about to graduate from college and the other is finishing her junior year of high school.
Although to go back and read my posts from those first years you’d discover I didn’t think they were little at all, and was riding a wave of denial about them growing up so quickly.
I guess some things haven’t really changed much, have they?
Speaking of which…
I’m totally kidding.
That photo on the right from last fall is dark. Hides the wrinkles that the past six years a life happily lived have left behind. (I do, however, still own and wear those sunglasses, hoodie, and beaded necklace on the left, and I’m almost certain my husband was wearing that pullover just last weekend.)
Something I do not still have is that fuchsia t-shirt I’m wearing in my blog’s bio pic way up there on the right. That pic is seriously outdated. I actually took this one last summer to replace it with, but I can’t figure out how to change it without screwing up the entire blog’s template.
Same lake, same chair, same earrings, same pose, but different shirt.
You can understand how the other one bugs me.
But back to the blog.
Things have changed a lot in the direction the blog has taken over the past six years, and I’ve learned to just sit back, hands off the wheel, and let it lead me where it wants to go.
Even if it just wants to sit in the garage.
It’s like I said a year ago in the 5-year blogiversary post:
Sure, maybe writing isn’t as important a part of my life as it was a few years ago, but as the years fly by with alarming speed I see how absolutely fluid life is, and I’m both thankful and at peace with things changing. Relatively speaking, of course.
Because here’s the thing: things may be changing, but they’re evolving.
I’m evolving in ways I never expected.
Do I still consider myself a writer?
I mean, I look at it this way: when my kids are grown will I still consider myself a mother?
In my mind, being a writer isn’t an occupation, it’s simply just who I am. Over the past five years writing has become part of me — as much as my failing eyesight and increasing skin tags. I can’t just decide to stop, or to turn it off, and I won’t.
This blog was started as an outlet, a hobby that surprisingly and happily turned into much more and led to some amazing moments and opportunities. But my favorite moments have been the conversations with you, the readers. Knowing that you read my silly words and even more, that some of them resonate with you, is something that means a lot, and that keeps me writing.
Recently I had a comment from a reader on a post from over four years ago. She told me she was bored at work, had just found my blog, and was going back and reading every YMFT post from the beginning.
Ya’ll, that’s 565 posts, not including this one.
I was struck by what that meant. This stranger — this wonderful, obviously highly intelligent stranger — was basically reading a novel of my life over the past six years, by choice.
Hell, even I haven’t done that.
So I did.
But I got bored so I quit reading.
I’m sure she did, too, but the fact that she even wanted to give it a go was something that I appreciated, something I didn’t take lightly, and something that was validating.
I’m proud of a lot of things in my life: my marriage and kids (obviously), my parenting, the fact that I have never gotten a speeding ticket, my ability to make a killer Cosmopolitan (to name a few) and the fact that over the past six years I’ve been able to connect with so many of you, and that some of my ramblings have affected you in a positive way, even if it’s just to make you chuckle in the middle of a hard day.
So cheers to six years.
Cheers to growing up and older.
Cheers to enjoying the ride.
Cheers to old favorites and those to come.
Cheers to you.
You are my favorite today.
Isn’t it nice to know some things never change?
Don’t ask what happened to year two. I was probably drunk.
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