Mama's been a bad, bad blogger!

Another month and more has gone by, and I've been ruminating on why I find it so hard to write here.

In part, it is because of limited time on the computer. That boy can crawl now, and it's much harder to let him do his own thing - I have to keep an eye out to make sure he isn't about to kill himself by chewing on a power cord or pulling a chair on top of himself.

But more it is due to one of my definitions of self. Although "writer" has been (happily) usurped by "mama" and "partner" at the top of my list of Who I Am, it is still a huge part of my identity. And I know too many of you - my family and friends - have that view of me as well. After all, I'm still the girl who took three years off to write novels. And shouldn't a writer have a well-written blog?

Perhaps, though, that it is better to have a poorly written blog than no blog at all. You'll have to let me know. Because I hereby resolve to write an entry at least twice a week. Even if that entry contains nothing but photos - no captions, even! - something will show up here.