08 January 2013


I have my blog to thank for many of the things I love most about my life in the here and now. Job? Check. A reader sent me the link to the online posting. Boyfriend? Check. I met him through a reader who has become a close friend in real life. Speaking of which, social life? Check. A fair number of the people with whom I regularly socialize are readers who have become flesh-and-blood friends. Sanity? CHECK. While I don't blog nearly as much as I used to, blogging, the feedback I get on my posts, and the interaction I've had with the Internets have been a vital part of both my grief and parenting processes.

A few of us in the office were talking about parenting the other day. I was saying how much I love parenting six year olds. Most parents do. The ages of six to, oh, eight or ten or something are known as the Golden Years, and it's easy to see why. All of a sudden, the fruits of all of those parenting labors start coming to bear, and you can see your children becoming fully functional independent beings who still love to spend time with you, their parent, more than anyone else in the world. It's great.

For me this is in sharp contrast to the early years with Maddie and Riley, from birth to age three, or even four. I know our circumstances were not ideal in those years. Be it that or just my temperament, I found those years incredibly hard. I can look back now and see the good parts, and there were plenty of happy, rewarding, joyful times that rise to the surface. But, as I shared with my coworkers, I also remember times of extreme isolation and loneliness. I've never felt more alone than I did on nights when I was up at 2 a.m., by myself with two crying, inconsolable babies. What got me through that was thinking about other people who were up with crying babies, too, and knowing that those folks were in that with me, even if I couldn't see them.

I need to feel connected with other people or I feel lost, almost meaningless. It's almost as though something hasn't really happened for me if no one else was there to bear witness to it. This has become slightly less true for me as time has gone on, but it's still the case that I love the company of others. Being a single parent presents logistical challenges, for sure, but for me the biggest challenge of single parenting has always been the isolation. Regular 2 a.m. wakings are thankfully no longer a part of my routine, but even once those passed, in the early years I still found it lonely to deal with all of the work--and the joy--of parenting on my own.

Now that Maddie and Riley are older, I get a lot of social interaction from them. I think that's one of the reasons it's been easier for me to enjoy parenting, and to feel like I'm doing a reasonable job of it, at this age. I also have many more accessible social outlets now. I have an au pair, so there's another adult in the house a lot of the time, plus I have more freedom to go out in the evenings once the kids are in bed. I have El Verdadero. We live close to family. We have a lot of friends. I'm not exhausted the way I was when the kids were babies and toddlers, so I can enjoy and appreciate my social outlets more.

Ever since my blogging frequency dropped precipitously, I've been trying to figure out why. There's no way I'm more busy now than I was when I blogged daily. There's no way I'm more tired or more stressed. There's no way I have less to say. Anyone who knows me can assure those with doubts that I always have something to say.

I think it's this: I have more in-real-life connections than I used to, connections I know I can count on, connections that aren't going away (barring unforeseen circumstances). Sometimes the online connections--the blogs, Facebook, text messages, email, Twitter, all of it--pull me away from my real-life connections. When my access to real-life connections was more limited, I put more time into the online connections. Now I put more time into the real-life connections. It's not that one is more valuable than the other. It's just a matter of not being able to be fully invested in all of them.

I don't know what that means for blogging. This is not an "I quit" announcement by any stretch. It's just an "A-ha!" moment of realization about why the pull to blog hasn't been as strong for a while, and a moment to pause and think about all ways in which blogging has bettered my life, as well as all the ways in which my everyday connections better my life, too.

Thanks, friends, those of the Internet type, the in-real-life type, and those who are both. Here's to 2013: friendships, reading, running, blogging, cooking, connections, and many other things good for us all.


chicago foodie girl said...

I'm glad to hear you've had such a positive experience with blogging. While I've slowed down considerably, I cannot see myself not blogging in some capacity, as I've also had so many wonderful things happen due to the connections I've made over the years.

Happy 2013! :-)

Janine said...

I connect with this ...... in so many ways. And agree with it in every way.
Here's to us ...... and surviving.
And living!

Alayna said...

And let's not forget about the fabulous woman who recognized you from your blog at the end of the Portland Half!

OTRgirl said...

That makes a lot of sense. For me, working from home has increased my day-to-day isolation and I find myself on-line a lot more than I used to be. This is a good reminder to reach out in real life, too.

We've thought of you so many times during the late nights and toddler craze: she was alone with TWO of them? How did she DO it!!? My respect for you grows every day that I'm learning this parenting gig.

django's mom said...

As someone who has followed you and benefited from your journey online, I am very grateful for all your guidance and wisdom. That being said, I still think it's awesome that you are in a place where in person connections are currently more salient than online.

PS- I SO agree with you about the early parenting and how isolating it is. AND how freakin' awesome ages 6-10 are. I heart age 7.

~lifedramatic~ said...

awww, we love you too :)

taffy said...

i've no doubt that if you lived in sydney, we'd be firm friends and running buddies. well... i'd want to be your friend.... whether you'd want to be mine is another story...

i enjoy your blog and completely get just about everything you say.

just letting you know that i read and quietly lurk. rarely comment. never read other comments...

and your running inspired me in such simple and beautiful ways.... that i've starting running in part because of you.

it's been an incredible year for me... and i think of you often as i enjoy my new found running love.

my best wishes to you and the kids.
take care dear stacey,
in deepest darkest sydney

Peace said...

My youngest is turning six in a few weeks, and my husband and I were just remembering how difficult 6 is. I forgot. I'm a pretty introverted person, and six wants to go everywhere and do everything, I'd rather hold a baby and feed it for hours than go ice skating/OMSI/children's museum/park/playdate. If we don't go it's an argument, and if we do go, I'm bored or resentful. Perhaps in some partnerships this gets balanced out, but ugh, six-ten are my least favorite. Six is exhausting to me.

Katia said...

Wow, I just wanted to say that I love your blog! I found you because I have a friend who lost her husband this year and they have a little boy who is about a year old now.
I am reading all your posts (I am now in 2009) and it reads like a book. I don't mean to say that it is an easy book to read! Would love to continue reading if you choose to continue blogging.
Wishing you well! 1405

Anonymous said...

I haven't checked your blog in years...life got busy, I had a child, I have a new job that I love and don't have as much time to read other people's blogs. It brings me huge amounts of joy though on the day that I do randomly check in to see that at least in January 2013 that random link I sent you for the job posting was still making you happy. Best wishes to you wherever life has taken you since :-) -"Ann Ominous" (Danielle)