Birth of a Blog

Push.............................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Puuuuuuuuuuuuuushhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!Just one more big push and she's out!!! Congratulations, you've just given birth to your first blog. Oh, my god, now what do I do? Do I have to take care of it? Feed it? Pay attention to it when I'm tired and just want to space out?

Why do people write blogs anyway? As soon as I made the decision to write this blog it started freaking everyone out. My 10-year-old son Trevor was stressing out, "Are you going to write negative things about me? If I get in trouble are you going to post it on your blog?" Trevor asked in a worried voice. I think he's scared that the whole frigging world is going to know about his self conscious prepubescent life.

When I told my sister Wanda I was writing a blog, she felt threatened. "That's so selfish, why do people write blogs? They should spend more time outside getting some exercise. You're just going to sit inside and be a shut in? What are you going to write about? You want everyone to read about your life, your private business? I hope this isn't going to cut into our chatting time."

I have to write. I have to live up to my family legacy. Both my parents are journalists and they both wanted their three daughters to be writers. They coerced me into majoring in journalism in college, certainly not a great major for someone shy like me. I did what I was told,, and majored in journalism, hating every minute of it. I even worked in public relations and advertising for a few years out of college. It sucked, big time.

I needed to break free, do what I wanted to do. I became an elementary school teacher. Exactly what my mother Ruth didn't want for me. A traditional woman's career? Ruth was no traditional woman, and her daughters wouldn't be either. But she couldn't hold me back forever.

But then, I married a writer, a guy just like my father. Loud. Larger than life. Big ego. I tried to run away from that family expectation, but that's hard when you're married to someone just like your father.

Okay, so fast forward about 20 years. I was a teacher for five years and a stay-at-home mom for 11 years. My brain is fried!!!! I need to express myself!!!! I need to write!!!!!!!

I guess I have to resign myself to my family history. Maybe I was meant to be a writer after all.

Mabel, Mabel