Well, I have succumbed to the idea of the blog. I feel like I'm trying to catch up with basic social media, but to be fair, I've spent the last seven years in a bubble. A big baby bubble.
For seven years, I didn't watch any television or hear new music. I've never seen Downton Abby, Lost, or Breaking Bad. A week ago my oldest daughter asked who that woman was on a magazine at the grocery store, and I had to read the caption to find out it was Lady Gaga.
Instead of obsessing about movies or politics or gossip, I've spent the last seven years growing and raising my three children. And they've taken every ounce of my energy. It's like the rest of the world stopped existing for a while, and all I knew was babies, diapers, breastfeeding, wiping noses, and snuggles. But I loved it. Loved every single second.
But now here I am. My youngest is going on three years old, and for the first time in a LONG time, I have a few minutes to myself each day. It's terrifying. What does one DO? I mean besides laundry and cooking and cleaning and driving. What can I do to stimulate my brain that might be interesting or productive on a flexible, irrational, inconsistent schedule?
Aha! I'll write that novel. The story that came to me while walking through Discovery Park in the fall. Came to me almost fully formed and begging to be told. I can write whenever I get a free moment. I can piece it together on my laptop, typing with one hand while a child falls asleep on my lap. I can finally, after seven years devoted to my children, do something for myself.
And that is how Women's Work came to be. It is my first grasp at sanity after seven years of sleep deprivation and selflessness. It is my brain waking up after a long hibernation. And, oh, it felt so good!