I’m joking. Older doesn’t make us better, older gives us different stories to tell. Stories that for the first time, older women are starting to open up about and share what wasn’t always talked about.
We are talking about love and fails, children and the assholes they can be when we want them to be perfect. We are talking about what real boobs look like and growing older. Life without limits.
When I first started this blog I didn’t believe that I wanted to be a “Mommy Blogger” because at that time my children were teens and I just didn’t feel like I fit into that group of women bloggers. I wanted to tell great stories.
I didn’t want to blog about daily poop or schedules for chores. I wanted to tell real life stories about women, about life, about chasing different kinds of dreams. I wanted to write about food, because I really LOVE food. I wanted to write about my adventures. I write for what I would want to read.
However, the popular female bloggers were at that time straight, 25-30, stay at home Mommies with 2-3 young children or master chefs with great teeth. And pretty… let’s not forget perky pretty.
I was not and am still not going to fit into that category. I am fantastic, but never perky.
Through the years Dancing with Fireflies went through many changes, changed songs, changed patterns, until I found a groove.
I know what you don’t want to think about yet. Teenagers.
Wrapped up in baby goodness, playgroups, and glitter. Those blogs aren’t for everyone. They are for a very select group and that time doesn’t last. Children grow up, turn to teens and then everyone stops talking about parenting them.
Think about the blogs about parenting teens and young adults.
They are either blogs talking about structured programs to rehab your troubled teen. Blogs talking about how friggen perfect there teens are. Or they are religious blogs… for troubled teens or therapy programs for parents. Trust me… when my teens were trouble, I was online looking for wisdom and didn’t find it.
For a long time I held back. I didn’t want to talk about my teens, family, life. It seemed like I was talking about them behind their backs or something dark.
But here’s the thing. My kids didn’t give a crap about my blog. In fact even as adults they don’t read it. It’s personal, it’s a life their Mom has that they don’t need to read I guess. And that’s okay. However they are all very supportive of it and proud that it is something I feel passionate about.
Older bloggers who blog about parenthood for all ages have been through the teenage war zone and came out to the other side with stories to tell. And finally we have stopped banging our heads as we tried to figure out our kids weird behavior and began to see the light. We have our stories we know are helpful for those looking to know what’s next and if they will survive the hardest years of parenting… 16-26.
Parenting isn’t all about soccer, chores, glitter, and being nice. Sometimes it is ugly, sad, and makes you wonder if you should have ever became a parent in the first place.
Now at last I can laugh about how they snuck out at night, told teachers his parents were dead, took our cars, made Dad drop the F-bomb in the kitchen, ran away barefooted and made the grandparents hide him out and buy him new shoes.
Finally I can start to tell our stories.
We worked hard to get to a place where we can enjoy what we have.
I love reading travel blogs. I love the beautiful pictures and exciting locations. But what I don’t love is thinking while I read some of them that I am too old at 40 something to enjoy traveling as much as these 20 something seem to be doing.
There are hundreds of travel blogs being written every day. Travel blogging is HOT.
Beautiful, thin, model perfect tanned girls in tiny bikinis are taking to their laptops and writing blogs about their dreamlike lives from perfect white beaches. Their counterparts are also studs with perfect smiles and abs of steel who cliff dive into aquamarine pools after trekking 50 miles through the jungles. I likely would die from heat exhaustion and be complaining the whole time. It’s true.. I hate being sweaty.
But at their age, I was chasing kids and trying to keep them from cliff diving from our roof. ( Yes, they really did climb on the roof and jump off… into a pile of leaves and one of them did in fact put a branch through his foot. Thanks Uncle Nic for watching them that day.. great idea. ) We didn’t have time or the money to travel to the world’s best beaches. We were trying to keep our kids and ourselves with a roof over our head.
Now after almost all of the kids have left… and came back.. and left. Oh wait.. some are here, waiting for another one to come back. Yeah.. that room is empty now. Now after we have gotten to a better spot in our lives, it is our time to travel the world and enjoy all that we worked so hard for.
I might not be picture perfect, but I’m on the road and sharing my real life experiences in food and travel. Because really, you aren’t reading this because I’m so pretty… you want to read a blog like this because it’s different.
When you get older, you realize that what mattered at 24 doesn’t mean shit later.
When you are 20 something you think that your title means something. You think that your job label gives you importance. You think that by the time you are 40 something you want to look back at your life and have your accomplishments be grand and shiney.
Here’s the truth: Happiness is an accomplishment. And many people spend their entire lives chasing that down and never find it.
Love isn’t perfect. Marriages seldom are. Your ideas of what a perfect relationship is at 24 mean nothing at 44. You realize that when you start to understand humans more.
We are done #filtering our lives.
Life isn’t always pretty.
I wish it was. I wish that people could all love each other and try to get along. I wish that we weren’t tearing each other apart over politics. I wish that people would stop thinking it is alright to say the worst and meanest things they can think of on the internet and then sit back to see if they actually hurt the person they intended enough that they would respond.
I am done filtering out the imperfections of MY life.
All that does is create a lie that others think is normal. And when their lives are dark or frustrating they feel like it isn’t normal.
Last night a friend and I shared stories about our lives and she told me about her struggles with her 20 something who was also having a hard time accepting growing up. She ended her story about her son needing to go to rehab. “But it’s okay. It will be okay.”
IT IS NOT OKAY!
I’m done with covering up the stink with perfume. No.. it isn’t okay for kids to treat their families with such disrespect and belligerently demand respect and a handout. Life isn’t pretty and I am done with this #filter that covers the crap. Mothers think they have somehow failed because their kids ended up being dicks. Moms.. your kid chose to be a douche because they want to, not because you didn’t love them enough or you did something wrong when they were little.
And now we are going to friggen write our blogs about real life. Why? Because we don’t write for our kids. We write for each other. We write for our readers who tell us that they really needed to hear what other parents are going through.
We write because we have amazing stories to tell. Our stories are about more than what can usually fit under one hat… in fact it can barely fit under one dark sky full of fireflies.