Five years ago today, while Hubs was out of town on a business trip and being treated to some professional basketball game with sweet tickets, because HELLO, PEOPLE FROM SMALL TOWN, USA! BUY OUR COMPUTERS AND WE WILL SHOW YOU A GOOD TIME IN CALIFORNIA!, I Googled the phrase “How To Start A Blog” back here at home.
And then I did it.
And then I felt some grand, GRAND pride over the entire thing… not because I HAVE A BLOG NOW!, but because OH, SWEET HOLY MOTHER OF WOW! I JUST DID SOME COMPUTER-RELATED PROJECT BY MYSELF, WHILE HUBS WASN’T EVEN IN THE SAME STATE!
(If you know me, you know that THAT is an enormous accomplishment, because just this very morning I had to inform Hubs that my school’s email account was no longer downloading emails, and if I spent any more minutes of my life investigating the problem, I would just sit in a dark corner and rock back and forth and pretty much cry.)
I started the blog, primarily to give Hubs’ sister (who has always lived on the total opposite side of the continental United States from us) updates on what the boy was doing. This way, Aunt Pink would always have a way to “stop by” and see that, “Whoa, there’s my nephew playing some soccer!” and “Holy crud! Look at that life-sized star destroyer he just built out of Lego bricks!”
And then I pretty much figured that I’d quit blogging, because I seem to quit everything that I start, and if blogging was anything like scrapbooking, I’d be done in two weeks.
Scrapbooking almost killed my OCD, because I needed perfect pages, and because I wanted that book caught up to-the-minute. When the boy was five years old and in pre-kindergarten, and I was busy scrapbooking the day that he started to CRAWL, y’all, I finally admitted that making a fancy scrapbook to commemorate my son’s life with probably wasn’t my exact cup of tea, no matter HOW often Amy and Jill hauled me to scrapbooking weekends, where we worked long hours on our projects at big tables, with even bigger bowls of M&Ms in the middle.
And then… somehow… I made it to a year of blogging, and I never looked back. I just kept going and going and going, but not as quickly as the Energizer Bunny goes, because I am elderly and prefer to just keep a steady pace of “shuffling along in my house slippers.”
So yes. The blog is five years old today, and I’ve managed to put up 1,193 different blog posts over that time span. I call it my own little version of scrapbooking, but listen: I have SONS. And sons are seldom interested in the amount of blood, sweat and tears their mamas invest in preserving memories through photos and collages and real words, so I suppose I’m doing this little blog for my boys’ future wives.
You know… for when they’re 35 and their mama actually says that yes, they can go on ahead and get married now.
I took the title Jedi Mama, because… in 2009, when I got things rolling ALL BY MYSELF around here… the boy was an Olympic gold medalist in the art of lightsaber fighting. He was the biggest Star Wars fan on the planet, and he’d held true to that devotion for years. Now, though, he’s fourteen… and he’s cool… and he finally took down the Clone Wars cartoon posters in his bedroom, because apparently you shouldn’t have those hanging on the walls when you’re in the junior high.
But hello! The giant (and I do mean GIANT!) Star Wars wall mural is still going strong on the boy’s bedroom wall, because my darling friend, Trina, painted it for the boy when he was eight, and we will never paint over it, even when the boy is 34 years old and still living at home.
Have I ever actually shown you THE MURAL?
Also, that is the boy’s idea of YES, I MADE MY BED THIS MORNING. Apparently, he doesn’t live in fear of a drill sergeant coming in to bounce a quarter off of it. Hubs and I may need to start shouting, “March, march, march” and “Drop and give me two hundred” every morning.
And I know that Thing 2 deserves a wall mural, too, but Trina up and moved seven hours away from me, because she decided that living with her husband while he took a new job was preferable to remaining in Small Town, USA with her friends and just talking to her husband on the phone. Whatever! I think they totally could’ve made it work, because Trina’s friends really did love having her right here in Small Town with us. (Did I just use the word TOTALLY like it was 1988 again? Bless my heart.) I have no idea WHO could paint an equally fantastic mural for our toddler, so we’ll just have to wait until Trina takes it upon herself to visit here again. Once you’ve had the very best wall-mural-artist around, it would be hard to see some YEAH, I TOOK A COUPLA ART COURSES AT THE COMMUNITY COLLEGE BECAUSE I WAS, LIKE, BORED, AND I THOUGHT THEY’D BE AN EASY A type of mural on our second son’s wall.
I don’t know that I’m really a Jedi kind of Mama any longer these days, because the lightsaber wars have completely stopped at our house. And I’m not sure that Thing 2 will even be interested in battles taking place in outer space, because he loves the trains and the Tonka trucks, with the same passion that the boy loved Darth Vader.
If I started a new blog today, I’d have to call it Trucker Mama. Or even Railroad Mama. Somehow, those titles don’t have the same ring to them, because Trucker Mama seems to imply that I might be able to successfully work a CB radio, and that I could parallel park something bigger than an ant, all while I wasn’t crazy-freaked-out about using bathrooms at truck stops along the highway. I’d have to watch some Smokey and the Bandit clips on the You Tube to figure the CBs out, and y’all can completely forget the parallel parking thing. My life motto with JUST THE SUBURBAN is, “If you can’t pull into the parking space without using reverse, you really didn’t need to go to that store anyway.” And my other motto is, “If the bathroom key is attached to a trash can lid so you won’t steal it, then you can hold it.” (And I’m not talking about holding the key and the lid.)
And, Hubs, please know that it ABSOLUTELY IS appropriate to send flowers and chocolates and take me out to eat dinner at a restaurant that doesn’t provide toys with their kids’ meals on a blogging anniversary. An anniversary is an anniversary, and they’re all DINNER-OUT worthy.
Happy five years, y’all. Thanks for putting up with the bad grammar here at Jedi Mama, Incorporated… and the poor punctuation… and all of the other grammatical flaws that make English teachers shudder with fear and reach for their red pens.