I think I may have just qualified for entry in The Longest Sentence Used in a Blog Post Awards. Now tell me, was that last paragraph funny in a hilarity inducing way, funny of the trying too hard variety, or just sort of whiny and snarky? You see, I want to figure out what sort of blogger I am and so far I’m thinking Comic Genius might need to be crossed off the list of potentials. Hallo. My name is Kim and I am suffering a blog identity crisis.

I got to thinking about some of my favourite bloggers and what it is about their writing that captivates me. I think of Nicole and the sweetness of her words and the beauty of her photos. That wry sense of humour. The way she adores her children. The fact that I can hardly imagine how big her heart must be to encompass everything she demonstrates her love for. I think of Becca who is warm and funny and so genuine it’s a wonder readers can’t reach through the screen and poke her. That Girl with her delicious sense of humour and who without even meaning to I am sure, inspires me to want to be as thoughtful and service oriented as she is. And I don’t think there are words to describe the way the wordsmith Terresa Wellborn stirs my soul with her poetry and prose.

They and so many of YOU share something. There is something in all of you that makes me yearn to read your words. And today, after four years, I finally put my finger on it. You don’t write ABOUT yourself, your write FROM yourself. Does that make sense? And after four years of writing about myself I want to be done. I want to reinvent this blog. I want to change that tagline of mine from The Egomaniacal Ramblings of a Mildly Deranged Housewife to something…more. Something reflective of where I’m going next. I’m not sure what yet. Not sure where yet. Reinvention is usually more of a process than an event.

Hopefully the end result of this crisis will result in something worth reading. If not, I have a blog roll full of people who are.

(Tagline suggestions welcomed. If I select yours then you will win the highly coveted honour of me assembling a prize package to mail you that I will then forget to post.)

“God has entrusted me with myself.” – Epictetus

Immediately, Becca leapt onto the grass. This is something Neil and I have drilled into both our girls. When a car is coming, you get on the grass FAST. It’s one of the many things we do to keep our kids safe. Or as safe as we can, anyway. And as Becca stomped along in the grass and dandelions that edge our sidewalk-less rural street, she prattled on about how the grass is safe. And then she looked up at me and asked, “Why aren’t you on the grass, Mommy?” A simple question, with the simple answer that the stroller doesn’t fit on the thin strip of grass. That Mommy is bigger and the cars can see her just fine.

But it got me thinking about the things I’m teaching my children by my words, and the things I’m teaching by my example. “Too much ice cream is bad for your tummy. Oh, well, Mommy has a bigger tummy than you (that’s why her serving is three times bigger…yeah).” “You need a good sleep so you can be healthy, and so we can have a happy day tomorrow.” So says the parent who will likely stay up till midnight again and start the day with a post-reading hangover. “Mommy’s going to put on some music so you can dance. Dancing is good exercise!” Mommy says as she sits at the computer, typing this and that.

So as I watched Becca walk along the grass I wondered…how often do I do that? Try to keep them safe even as I’m stupidly putting myself in danger? Maybe I should put a little more effort into being the sort of adult I want my kids to grow up to be, instead of hoping they won’t notice my foolish choices. Oh, I should know better than that. I should know that eventually, kids notice EVERYTHING. I don’t need to be perfect to be a good example though, I just need to try a WEE bit harder. Practice what I preach. Be humble enough to acknowledge when I’m not making the best choices, instead of trying to pretend it’s somehow okay because I’m Mommy.

It really is true that in raising children, we kind of raise ourselves don’t we?