I had the best of intentions when the new year began. I was going to blog early and often. I was going to update my look and my links. I was going to COMMUNICATE.
But then, well, then I sank into a funk. The Boy hit 3.5 years with a vengeance and though Moxie and Ames & Ilg assure me his vicissitudes are normal, they are soul crushing and exhausting. Earlier this week, when he wouldn’t leave the sledding hill (after much sturm and drang), I threatened to throw his sled into the street to be destroyed by oncoming traffic. It was a parenting high point.
I feel like a huge flop as a mother in almost every interaction with The Boy, and I’m so angsty about that that I don’t spend nearly enough Quality Time with The Girl who is growing up adorably and all too quickly. And I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I find myself longing, incredibly, for another child. It’s unspeakable, really. I feel like I’m barely capable of managing the children I have, and yet there I am daydreaming about another.
This cauldron of emotions is difficult to blog through when combined with this other (incredibly obvious) thing: I’m just not BrooklynGirl anymore. I’m not living in Brooklyn. With less than a year to go to my fortieth birthday, it's absurd to refer to myself as a girl.
I am thankful for the refuge this blog and this identity has provided me in the five years (!) that it has existed, but I think it’s time to close up shop. I plan to resurrect myself as soon as I can figure out who I am. Or what I want to be. Or how to write about that journey.
Thanks for your friendship and support. I’ll post a new URL here when I have one, and I hope you'll stay in touch.
In Those Years
In those years, people will say we lost track
of the meaning of we, of you
we found ourselves
reduced to I
and the whole thing became
silly, ironic, terrible:
we were trying to live a personal life
and, yes, that was the only life
we could bear witness to
But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged
into our personal weather
They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove
along the shore, through rages of fog
where we stood, saying I
~ Adrienne Rich