I started blogging shortly after my second child was born as a way to help myself become a “real” writer. I remember being pumped when I reached 35 page views in one day. Success! I had arrived! I love blogging, yay!
What started as a way for me to drink coffee, ignore my children, and pretend I was a writer slowly started to morph into something a little more ominous.
Suddenly, in the dark of the night, the soft, inviting glow of my computer screen called to me like a sweet temptation formerly only reserved for my mother-in-law’s secret chocolate chip cookie recipe.
Feeling stressed?
Blog it out!
Feeling lonely?
Connect with online readers!
Feeling like your husband doesn’t understand?
And that’s where things started to get a little tricky…
It started with a couple of “lighthearted” posts about the difference between men and women; a few “humorous” stories about how my husband could never change the toilet paper roll, literally stacking the new roll on the still-standing empty roll predecessor. Maybe one or two chuckle-worthy moments about the time I came home from working one job at the hospital to start in on another, only to find my husband sitting, perfectly content, in front of the TV eating ice cream.
I loved the comments that rolled in from women who “got it.”
Finally, I thought. Someone who understands me!