I told Derick today that I missed blogging. I really like putting my shit (shhhh, Norah picks up those words now) out there. It’s cathartic, even if it’s self- involved and selfish.
Where the fuck (eff) do I start? I’ve been missing in action (because blogging is totally just like battle) for a loooooooooooooooong time now. I’d bet actual money that no one is reading. If you’re reading, comment. I’ll give you $.50.
What? Did you expect more? THESE ARE HARD TIMES PEOPLE.
Norah is two years and two months old now. I could write an entire book on that child, how beautiful and funny and delightful she is. When I ask her questions she likes me to answer and then says “good job” Like she knew the answer and I’m just the dummy trying to keep up.
I’ll be honest; I’m really struggling. I feel very, very alone. I don’t have any friends here with children, and while I adore sharing my amazing kid with others, I don’t want to be the person constantly talking about my baby. I hate pushing my life onto others. But I’ve found now that because I don’t talk about anything people have just stopped asking.
WOE IS TRICIA, amirite? There are international tragedies everywhere and I’m lamenting because I’m a (somewhat) happy, healthy, white, privileged woman in a (sort of) civilized country. LAMENT WITH ME.
I don’t even know what the point of this post was- ha! I guess to introduce myself back into blogging? BECAUSE YOU ALL WERE ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEATS WAITING.