I carry a notebook in my bag, I have one on my dresser and a mini one in my pocket.  I can never find a pen and I always tell myself I won’t need to write that genius sentence down because I’ll remember it later, but I never do and have lost so many great blog titles from being stubborn.  But there are a mess of ideas and scribbles jotted around on sticky notes and scraps around the house and in my dressing gown pocket.

I’m terrible at getting things done on time, unless theres a deadline.  I procrastinate every chance I get, the kids distract me and I forget to post.  By the time I get around to posting anything, it’s been a month since the ‘event’ and it no longer seems relevant enough to share.  I never did get around to sharing the twins 2nd birthday party.  I wish I was the organized blogger that shared pinterest parties with you and the lovely holidays, when in truth it took me 19 days to unpack the smallest case when I got back from Milan (which I still haven’t shared) and its still sitting at the end of my bed with a deodorant and a belt inside months later and might as week stay there until August when we go away again.

Maybe its just organization?  Or lack of?  Or maybe theres a deeper meaning?  Am I self sabotaging a chance of a career incase I do it, all in, and I am still completely shit at it?  I started this blog when Ruby was a baby, as a way of keeping friends and family up to date, she lost her Mr Rabbit (hey followers since then, that was a while back eh?) I was at uni and my husband was in the Army, so it was a nicer way than The Facebook to keep in touch when we all moved to opposite ends of the world.  Before I knew it I was getting emails, I was on PR lists and being nominated for awards.  I had another 3 babies in a really tiny amount of time and it all just grew, It was crazy, I ran with it and fell in love with it, became friends with the other parents I met online, the mentors, the new friends and the old ones.  This little blog has become my second home, along with my instagram and I’m not sure where I would be without it.  It’s helped shaped me as a parent and got me through some of the hardest moments in my life.  The online support you get from people you know so well and have never met can be overwhelming and oh so wonderful, gives me the warm and fuzzy feels.

But, how many posts do you have to write before you call yourself a blogger? Or is it an amount of followers? Or is it something else completely?  A feeling? Or will I never feel like I really belong? I sometimes feel like a bit of a fraud, Imposter syndrome at its best.  Is it when you give up your job and do it full time or can you have a career/job and be a successful blogger?  I’ll be honest with you, blogging terrifies me.  Putting everything out there, sharing it all.  Being judged and doing it anyway, I’ve been lucky enough that I haven’t been targeted by trolls & have a lovely little community around me, some of my closest friends are online and I know I can rely on them any time of day.

My aim for the year was to blog at least once a week.  I’m taking part in a few photography projects and wanted to have a monthly Day in the Life, I wanted to share days out, tips, photography ideas, creative posts, and I sit and stare at my screen wondering if anyone reads it, or even enjoys it.  I met Giovanna Fletcher at a book event last year (we would SO be BFF’s if we lived closer, the twins would love her boys!) and asked her when she felt she could call herself an author.  When did it feel right?  Was it when she decided to start writing, when her first book was complete?  Published? And she told me, so simply,  to ‘Be Bold’ to own it and to just go for it.  And she’s so right.  I’m not sure what I am waiting for or why I find it so scary.  But if I don’t try, we’ll never know will we?

So, I am being bold.  Here goes nothing….