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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!

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