Baby steps

I'm here. I'm still alive. I haven't been eaten by wolves or hit by a bus or flattened by a meteor.
Read my last blog post...it'll make sense...maybe...

So, anyway, it turns out that leaving my cave (metaphorically speaking) is harder than I thought. Some beardy old Chinese guy (Lao Tzu according to the all knowing oracle - Google) said that the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. What he never said was how hard that first step would be for a person like me. There are lots of reasons why it seems better if I just stay where I am. Unknown, unseen, safe. And that’s a totally legitimate course of action, right? The world isn’t going to be significantly impacted either way. Stay in the cave, don’t stay in the cave, start the journey, don't start the journey, it’s all pretty much the same. Except that I started this thing for a reason. To share my experience and to help others who might be going through something similar. And apparently, those people can’t find me if I stay in hiding. Ugh! Life is so unfair.

What I want to know is, where’s a fairy godmother when you need one? Cinderella got one, lucky wench. And I don’t even want to land a prince, I just want someone who can wave their magic wand over the internet and make it so that when a person types in “extremely fussy eater” into their search engine of choice my book is on the first page of results. Is that so much to ask for, is it?!

I don’t even care about selling tons of books and making tons of money. No, really. Of course, when I started out writing my book I dreamed of making a million bucks. I imagined going on book tour, speaking to groups small and large, being interviewed by breakfast news hosts, being beautified by people who know how to beautify. Squee!!

And of course in that dream I was a person who liked that stuff. I had great fashion sense and all my awkwardness magically disappeared. I was poised and elegant and full of sparkling repartee.

Umm...so none of that happened and I’ve had some time to adjust my expectations. Forget being a socialite wannabe, right now, I’d actually just like to connect with other mums (dads and caregivers, too) who are having a tough time understanding why their child screams in terror when it comes to meal times. And to do that it seems that I have to strap on my big girl pants and stop being such a scaredy-cat. Given how little I know about marketing and how awkward and uncool I am, this could actually be interesting. Grab your popcorn and settle in for the show. 

Or, on the off chance that you know some super awesome person who wants to be my marketing fairy godmother, you could put in a good word for me. I’d probably be okay with that.