The answer is: maybe. I've now registered for a blog and have (obviously) started typing it. But the shame of blogging might get the better of me before I actually share it with the public. As I generally relegate blogs to the list of activities appropriate for 15 year old girls pining over Edward or Jacob or Zac Efron (thank you, Perez Hilton), this really should be a private journal. But several unsuccessful attempts at diaries over the years convinced me that I'm just not Type A enough to stick to writing in a book.
I need to do something to keep myself honest. Which brings me to the whole point of this putative blog. I am committed to my new year's resolution of making family dinner an event. I don't mean just providing sustenance for my family every evening. I mean laying the groundwork for a lovely family ritual that will endure for years (decades?) to come. Why? Because I yearn to be like Martha Stewart and June Cleaver. No. Because I am scared to death of screwing up my kids! I now have two girls, which will cause even the most steely-nerved parent to be haunted with visions of teen pregnancy and keg stands. Drugs, drinking, sex, obesity, bad manners . . . the risk of all these things plummets when children grow up with a family dinner (I read it on NPR, so it MUST be true). Sign me up!
But it is much harder than you would think to get us all gathered around the table at the same time, conversing with each other in a civilized manner, and politely eating healthy food. And that's with only two parents and a four-year old! In about a month and a half I'll be starting Astrid on real food and thus adding a baby to the family dinner mix. Now is the time to get committed. I already downloaded a book to my Kindle on the family dinner - how important it is and tips on pulling it off. The book mainly made me feel like a lazy and unimaginative mother. But there were some tips I took away: no phones or TV at the table, have a pitcher of water with slices of fruit in it to pass around, spend $5 on flowers to make your table look prettier and more inviting. So we've started. Change is painful.
This blog is meant to help me stick with it. If I get the nerve to share it with people, I'll be more motivated to continue. Publicity equals accountability, right?
Beyond that, it would be nice to have family moments recorded in cyber-history. My girls are young and these times are precious. As much as I'd like to think I'll always remember this process, I've come to terms with the fact that six years of lawyering and two children have given me the memory of a goldfish. If I don't write it down, it didn't happen. (Seriously, I don't remember my Annika's first word or when she said it! What kind of a mother am I? I do remember when she first walked, but that is just because it was so early. I thought I had a budding athletic prodigy. Four years later, my hopes are dashed every time she falls down just standing still.) You'd think that would inspire me to fastidiously record events in baby books - but see my comment above about consistently writing in books. I manage to be pretty prolific on Facebook, so I'm hoping the world wide web will serve as my "baby book."
And finally, assuming I go public, I'd like my friends to chime in with their own advice on weighty subjects like how to get a small child to eat kale, or what to make with sad looking celery and leftover chicken. I hope I get a couple friendly tips, otherwise I won't be able to handle the rejection. Although I suppose that's what I get for being a 30-something with a blog. In turn, if you read my blog you can learn from my mistakes and have smoother time instituting your own lovely family tradition. I'll even post my favorite recipes.
Anyway, today is December 30, 2010. I have two days to decide whether to publish this or make it my own technologically-advanced private journal. Wheat berry salad is on the menu tonight. Happy New Year!
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