I originally started this blog over on Everything Baby as a journal of sorts. It was a way for me to vent about crap that was going on in my life and a way for me to talk about Caroline without having to worry about people thinking that I was bragging.
After several entries, I started noticing that a lot of members were reading what I was writing. I received several PMs about my journal and Julie over at Shelter Girl asked me if I had a blog. That’s how this blog came to be.
Pretty innocent, huh?
I had been reading Dooce.com for over a year and was amazed that she actually made money blogging. She wrote what she thought, got to stay home with her daughter and still managed to pay the bills.
Since I have a computer fetish, I figured that I had finally “found my calling” and a way to ensure that I wouldn’t have to work outside the home once Tucker gets out of the Navy.
And that was when the trouble started.
And that created a problem.
How’s that for screwed up? People enjoyed what I was writing and so I started worrying about what I was writing.
Instead of rambling about Cara walking and the joys and horrors of motherhood, I decided that people wouldn’t find that interesting. I became obsessed with my number of hits and page views and started setting “goals” for myself. “By August 1st, I want to have 150 readers”.
While I’m not saying goals are a bad thing, they are if they become obsessions. Instead of writing what interested me I was worried about writing what would interest someone else.
Last night, after reviewing my dismal stats, I started complaining to Tucker. His response?
“You should focus on writing the best damn blog that you can. Write about what you want to write about. Write your “opinion posts” and people will either like it or they won’t. Isn’t that the point of a blog anyway?”
True dat, homey.
So, adoring fans, don’t be surprised if you read a lot more about my dogs, my dog-like cat and my amazing eight month old. Don’t be shocked when you read way more than you expected about PS3 games and about my dorky husband. I figure there will also be a few about how scared I am about Tucker getting out of the Navy and about how much my family pisses me off.
Though I’m sure that I will still occasionally worry about if anyone else wants to read what I’m “putting down”, I’m going to try my darndest to not let that decide what I write.
Did I mention that my kid likes cows?