I look up from my laptop. “Good night”, I hear my husband say. “Don’t stay up too long.” “I won’t”. What a lie. I know that I won’t join him for another hour or two. He closes the door to our room. And here I am sitting now, in the semi-darkness of our living room, looking at the lights of our Christmas tree. This is the time of the day when my fingers get wings, when they start flying over the keyboard, when they stop the thoughts spinning in my head and help them become words. And texts. And posts. Not every night. But pretty often.

I am a blogger because my mind never shuts up. I am a blogger because I write texts in my head. When I take a shower. When I cook. Sometimes, when I play with the kids. I blog to remove this oversupply of words in my head.

Blogging is not something I do from time to time. Blogging is like a friend that is walking next to me during the day. When you are a blogger mum, lines become blurred. Your kids are your blog. Your blog is one of your kids.

Before I became a mum, writing was what I did for a living. Now, it is what I do to live. To keep my sanity. To feel balanced. And happy. And calm. My blog is the bridge to my former me. The bridge to the ambitious me, writing for companies, organising events all day. A me that I had chosen to leave behind for a while. To focus on the kids. To be with them all the time.

But when I started blogging, a window suddenly opened to the professional world. A window opened while I had shut the door. Blogging gives me small doses of my former ‘corporate’ life. The writing. The events. The workshops I organise. It’s all there. In small doses. That I can take when the kids are asleep. No ‘being at work’ or ‘staying home with the kids’. The lines are blurred. And we dance on them.

My blog is a job. Disguised in the bathrobe of a weekend resort. It’s a job. Even though it might not look like one. It’s a job. That permits me to stay with the kids. To be a stay-at-home mum one day. And a working mum the next. And yet. Would I need to nourish my kids with my blog, my children would starve. Cause there is no money. No bucks. No bills. Earning money as a blogger. No easy affair.

I am a blogger mum. I am living the in-between. I don’t try to define it. I just try to be real.
To my kids.
To myself.
To you.

So, here I am sitting now, in the semi-darkness of our living room, looking at the lights of our Christmas tree. This is the time of the day when my fingers get wings, when they start flying over the keyboard, when they stop the thoughts spinning in my head and help them become words. And texts. And posts. Not every night. But pretty often…