A few years ago I thought blogging was one of the silliest things I’d ever heard of.
It wasn’t until my friend Laura started her blog that my feelings changed (thanks l.mount!). I was obsessed with it. I couldn’t wait to read her days trials and tribulations as a new mother. When I learned that I was pregnant my obsession grew and I used her blog as a research tool for my future.
When I started my own blog I thought it would be a great way of keeping everyone up to date about Fiona without having to send out random emails to everyone all the time. But now, NOW I’ve found that it’s one of the cheapest forms of therapy out there. Not only do I read countless other blogs from mother’s with wee ones….trying to learn from their experiences or ease my own worries…but I’ve found that for whatever reason, writing down my problems and concerns and posting them to the cyber world seems to free my mind from them.
Since my post on “winter stew” I’ve found many kindred mothers….it seems that this feeling is nothing new. Whether stay-home or working full time this “new” life takes some adjusting to. Thank you to all that sent me their good energies and empathetic advice. I’m just about done simmering. I’ve finally accepted that I need to move past this, embrace where I’m at and find a new way to do things. I’ve come up with a plan to get me exercising once again, and if I can actually employ the plan I will start feeling better in no time. Greg gets home on wed. and hopefully that will help to spur me on.
The cyber world is good to me and it’s hourly rate seems very affordable!
your welcome.
The cyber world is great.. you can put it out there… and even if no one comments it seems to help a bit. ! 
Somewhere in my files I have a great quote about a man with many worries, “…but if he wrote it down, he could forget it.” If I ever unearth it, I’ll share the whole thing with you. And one other. “…In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and know I had to put it on the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well-oiled in the closet, but unused.”