(Re-posted from here from 4th January 2014)
Ok, so I’ve taken the plunge and finally started blogging. I should have done this years ago. Since teen-hood I have loved writing. The love of writing was evident in silly things such as passing very detailed notes scribbled on scraps of paper to my best friend in year 7. We kept our notes in a pencil case, and my mum found them one day and went berserk at me for wasting time in class. I also remember spending many nights as a 14-year-old with insomnia, writing in my orange general notebook exercise book for school. (Anyone remember them? They contained recycled paper instead of ‘good’ paper. And what on earth were they for?!). A couple of friends and I would spend time during our English GCSEs, be it in class or out of class (sometimes in the middle of the night), writing long paragraphs of what can only be described as teenage nonsense in said general notebooks. When we had written our latest instalments, we would swap books so that we could read what the other had written, and then respond with further nonsense. At the time, we probably thought we were thoroughly intelligent. I do believe that a couple of these friends may still have these notebooks in circulation. Incidentally, I went on to get a grade A in one of my English GCSEs. No comments on my current writing skills please!
Now being a lover of writing is by no means a promise that my writing will be any good. But who cares? Its the taking part that counts, right? So being the avid amateur writer that I am (*ahem, cough cough*), why haven’t I done this sooner? Well I guess it never occurred to me. In my twenties I was very much into all the things that 20-somethings are into – alcohol, partying, fashion, sex. Then I settled down with a dashing young man, qualified as a registered nurse and became ‘sensible’ (boring?). During these sensible years of my late twenties, we (I) decided to get married and think about starting a family as the (biological) clock was ticking and I didn’t want to leave it too late. Plus, I was working full-time and didn’t really have a need to vocalise my brain waves into an online forum for all and sundry to read. And although I’ve always had a lot to say, I’ve never really been that confident that anyone would want to hear it. There’s a large part of me that still thinks this.
15 months after getting married, we were gifted with our first beautiful son, and 18.5 months after he was born, we were gifted with our second beautiful son. And life really had changed forever. I previously had a dazzling career in nursing (insert sarcasm here). Actually, I won’t knock it too much, it was fine. In fact, I technically still have that career. I’m coming to the end of my maternity leave, and really need to decide what on earth I am going to do. The prospect of leaving my very young children for five days per week, for 11 hours per day, seems rather depressing to say the least. Depressing for me, as I carried them for nine months, used every ounce of mental and physical strength to get them out of me, have nurtured them in every way so far, and all for what? For me to dump them with someone else so that I can continue my mediocre career as a nurse? Is it worth it? I’m not sure.
So the prospect of leaving my work either permanently or temporarily is looming and I have a chronic case of verbal diarrhoea. The only ears I have to aim it at are my husband, and everyone knows that men don’t want to listen to their wives babble on inanely about every little idea they get. The other ears are my two-year old’s and my six-month old’s. As much as my two-year old pretends he knows exactly what I’m talking about, and as much as my six-month old is delighted when I talk to him, it doesn’t really cut the mustard.
So naturally, I turn to blogging to vent. Actually, it was my dear father-in-law who suggested blogging to me. Maybe he was fed up with my lengthy emails containing inane babble being directed at him? (R – I love your emails – please keep sending them!). In any case, here I am on your computer screen (coffee, anyone?).
And on that note, I had better get on with what I was doing before – looking after the kids, who have managed to destroy the place in my ‘absence’.
Till next time…