Post # 100, in which the blog becomes aware of itself…

10 03 2009

That’s right, this is Domestic Blister’s 100th post. And to commemorate this momentous milestone, I’d like to take a moment to thank you, my dear readers, for supporting this ego maniacal rant-fest. For hanging on my every swear word. For putting up with all my bitching and blustering and talk about the barfies. For being just as confused as I have been at times, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the experiences that have shaped the Blister family. Thank you. I am a better writer and a better mother because of you.

That’s why I started this blog in the first place. I did not want this to be a shiny happy mommy blog about the cute shit my kids say, and how perfect my life is, although there are shades of that here. I also did not want it to be a snide, cynical pity party about how hard it is to walk in my shoes with such big, clumsy, blister prone feet. But there are shades of that here too. Really, I just wanted a place to blab about nothing. Or something. Or everything. I honestly didn’t even think anybody would actually read this, let alone keep reading it for nearly a year. But I’m glad you did.

Now, here’s the part where I take my readers ever so gently by the hand, lead them to a beautiful, flower-filled meadow whilst whispering soothing words of love and gratitude in their ears, and then turn around and thwack them in the heads with a ten-pound bag of yukon gold potatoes that I’ve been hiding behind my back the entire time: I’m afraid that this, the 100th post on Domestic Blister, will be the last. You saw that coming, right? You’ve all seen how slack I’ve been lately. And with good reason. I’ve been rolling the thought of quitting this blog around in my mind for quite some time, but I just wasn’t sure how or when or why to do it. Rest assured, dear reader, it’s not you. It’s me. Like I said, I started this blog to challenge myself. To become a better mother and a better writer. I think I’ve done that. God knows I’ve felt challenged by the emptiness of my screen and the fullness of my mind every single time I sat down to hack out a post. But over the last few months,  I feel like I’ve been losing ground. I’ve been writing just for the sake of getting something, anything,  up on this blog. And those are hours that I now feel like I should be spending with my kids. Or, quite frankly, if I’m going to be glued to the computer for three hours at a time, I should be writing something that pays the bills. A writer can not live on love alone.

I’m not ruling out the possibility that I’ll pick this thing up again someday. That this may not be good-bye, but rather a see-ya-later. I don’t know. I’ll ask my tarot cards, since they seem to be so goddamn smart these days. But I do know that for now, my heart and my head and my efforts  need to be more focused on other things in my life. Things that will help establish me as a writer, and put some money in my pocket. Things that need help learning to walk.  Things that want to learn to bake fancy cheesecakes. Things that say cute shit like “Damn, we haven’t had pickles for a snack in a long time!”

Again, thank you for reading and responding and relating to my life and my family. It’s been a slice. May you all find your own personal path to bliss, domestic or otherwise. May you travel that road with a wellspring of strength, and a weakness for laughter. And may you always, always have a band-aid handy. Just in case you get blisters.