"I Blog," said 90% of stay-at-home moms across America. It's not original. The term is as commonplace as Google these days. Parenting, Marriage, Recipes...You name it, there's a blog about it. It doesn't change the fact that I'm 41 years old and I love writing one.
When I began mine in 2010, it was for the purpose of documenting the entertaining things that happen to our family and lessons learned, mostly the hard way. If anyone outside our family enjoyed reading it, that's awesome. It's been my not-so-private journal, so to speak.
I can't pinpoint the exact moment things shifted, but somewhere along the way, my blog has transitioned from the 'Journal of a family' to the 'Biography of a midlife crisis' and 'Our Random Events' morphed into 'My Bucket List.' A list I didn't realize existed until things started getting checked off.
What happens when Midlife Bucket List collides with Blog? That would be me. The Midlife Blogger. A state where common sense no longer exists. A place where fears and phobias get put on the back burner, all in the name of a blog entry. Or in my case, the title is usually enough to do it.
Gone are the days when the recounting of a story occurs secondary to the events. Suddenly, I see every opportunity through a distorted Blog lens and before I know it, a title pops into my head and just like that, I'm committed. Then reality strikes. In order to experience the thrill of the write, I have to actually live the event. That almost always requires me to face a major fear and very often some hard training.
A mere 5 months after swearing off ever doing Tough Mudder again, I signed up to do another one with Z. I've spent the past 2 months rigorously lifting weights, running trails and popping B12 supplements again because how could I pass up the opportunity to write what will be called, 'Mudder-Son Bonding?'
Last week he asked me to go skydiving with him next month. That means immediately following Tough Mudder Part 2, I'll switch from extreme physical training to quietly sitting in front of electric fans and practicing my Kegel exercises while the wind whips through my hair in an attempt to avoid an embarrassing accident the moment I'm hurled out of an airplane at 13,000 ft by a man who is strapped to my back while I pray the giant piece of nylon tucked into his backpack will unfurl and be enough to slow our descent before plummeting into the earth below. All for the love of my persuasive son and a story titled, 'Jump For Boy.'
But I should clarify something here. Before you think I've gone completely off the deep end for the love of writing, fear not. The Tummy Tuck I'm scheduling in November is strictly midlife crisis. The Blog series that will follow with titles, 'Tuck & Roll, Tuck It Up and Tuck You' is purely a coincidence.
So you have a little preview of posts to come...unless of course things go terribly wrong at Tough Mudder next Saturday or my chute doesn't open on May 15th...in which case, it's been fun. The End.