By-products.

Writing a blog has interesting by-products.  

My ego hasn't had this much fun in a long time; people reading the blog from places all over the world (still haven't figured out who my South Korean fan is), people writing comments, people becoming fans on Facebook.  It's lovely to be complimented and I'm getting better at saying thank you without feeling embarrassed by the attention.

Yet with all this going on, I often forget that friends I see face-to-face read this blog on a regular basis.  I'll run into someone at a store or playgroup and they'll reference a recent blog post or start talking about something that happened recently with Sonja and Haven.  It always stops me for a moment in confusion, wondering how they knew, and then I remember: "Oh yeah, I've put my life out there for people to read."  

I write for myself as much as anyone.  I'm not ashamed to admit that I go back and read my writing regularly, especially some of the first posts, because I like to see the progression of both my comfort level and my thought processes.  It's only been in the last month or so that I've really become interested to see how many people are reading and where they hail from.  And this is mostly a reciprocal voyeuristic curiosity, since I love to imagine who they are and what their life is all about as they sit down to read about me and mine. 

Of course catharsis is a by-product of writing this blog and it's a much-intended one.  I don't think people can write about their childhood memories, especially the painful memories, without wanting or searching for cathartic solace, and the same must said for the reader.  I knew from the moment I started writing Once Little that I would delve into all corners of my memory and be as honest and forthright as I could be.  If I couldn't honour that intention, I wouldn't continue to write because I knew eventually I would be my only reader.

But by far the most interesting and surprising by-product of writing Once Little is my own accountability: if I write it, I feel compelled to live it as much as I'm able.  Thinking back to past posts, I remind myself over and over to have patience, to take a deep breath, to slow down and appreciate the moment, to speak my mind, and to cut myself some slack.  So in a way, I've become my own support group.

Could it be that writing a blog will help me be the person and parent I strive to be?  It's not as though I've felt that I am finished learning, far from it.  I've become more and more open to learning as I've grown older.  But I didn't start writing this blog thinking that I would learn something from myself.