Tamera & Sean have been here, staying in the cabin. Baby shower for Myra & Jim. Justin's Grandma was in the hospital with herat issues. Boys have been rather wild. I'm a tired crankypants. It has been a warm few days, so the fact that we still have to get our firewood in hasn't been a big deal. I'm back to just two regular dance nights a week, etc, etc, etc...I can't think of all that's going on. One of those days...brain drain...kids dragging each other around by their overall straps. I'm attempting to ignore the insanity. (A later time, Littlest is sleeping, Biggest is singing a never ending song, in what he says is Spanish, under the table.)
I was just talking to some other moms recently...(Oh God, I've started doing that "talking to other moms" thing) and none of us can really remember much about our kid's past. All those moments you don't write about/take pictures of, you just assume OF COURSE you will remember.... well, you don't. First words? Favorite foods? It's freaking me out that they are going to want to know these things someday. My journal is buried in some drawer somewhere upstairs, and gets written in maybe twice a year? It's awful. I'm feeling terribly guilty because this wasn't going to happen to ME. I was the one person who was going to lovingly document every. single. second. of my precious babies lives. After turning five, The Kid had a Birthday Story Day at school, and I was supposed to tell a story to the class about each year of his life. The best I could come up with for age three was...."Uhhhh...he got a baby brother". Four..."He wore a hardhat a lot." (Duh.) I suppose the "Now" is what matters. These perfect, tiny people have no concept of anything else, and I have always been too preoccupied with what is over and done anyway. I just hope my blog doesn't disappear in a puff of cyberspace smoke someday. At least they have my random, Internet mutterings to look back on fondly.
I was just talking to some other moms recently...(Oh God, I've started doing that "talking to other moms" thing) and none of us can really remember much about our kid's past. All those moments you don't write about/take pictures of, you just assume OF COURSE you will remember.... well, you don't. First words? Favorite foods? It's freaking me out that they are going to want to know these things someday. My journal is buried in some drawer somewhere upstairs, and gets written in maybe twice a year? It's awful. I'm feeling terribly guilty because this wasn't going to happen to ME. I was the one person who was going to lovingly document every. single. second. of my precious babies lives. After turning five, The Kid had a Birthday Story Day at school, and I was supposed to tell a story to the class about each year of his life. The best I could come up with for age three was...."Uhhhh...he got a baby brother". Four..."He wore a hardhat a lot." (Duh.) I suppose the "Now" is what matters. These perfect, tiny people have no concept of anything else, and I have always been too preoccupied with what is over and done anyway. I just hope my blog doesn't disappear in a puff of cyberspace smoke someday. At least they have my random, Internet mutterings to look back on fondly.
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