I always want to blog more. And there are all kinds of reasons why I don't. Sometimes I can't get to it. Sometimes it seems like there's nothing to document. Sometimes the words just don't come. I'm sure there will never be a good week for me to blog more, but this week is far far far from a good week.
Right now in general:
Still a newish mother of two.
Jacob is working virtually all the time.
We are in the early stage of potty training our oldest little person.
We're batting at about a .200 when it comes to toddler naps.
This week in particular:
Lucy June is (finally) getting baptized on Sunday.
Jacob's brother and a friend from LA are visiting on Friday.
Jacob's mom and sister are coming into town for the weekend.
My parents, grandmother, and sister are all coming into town for the weekend.
We're having a party on Sunday afternoon.
So why? Why am I doing this to myself?? There are a few reasons:
1) When life is already crazy what's a little more craziness. Blogging won't really add much to the hectic meter this week because we're pretty much at max, so what's a little more, am I right? I'm a firm believer that you get more done when you have less time.
2) Sometimes I lock the door when I go to the bathroom. Even though blogging isn't perhaps as essential as bathroom time, I still really value it and I feel just fine about occasionally making myself less present to my family so I can accomplish it.
3) It's a gift to myself. Friday is my birthday (add that to my list up there, yo) and I want to give myself this gift. Whenever I make sure my kitchen is really clean or sweep my floors before bed, I do it because I know how much I'll appreciate myself for it come morning. I look at my dirty kitchen and I say: give yourself this gift. And I repeat that through the drudgery that is late night dishwashing. And it never fails. When I wake up to that clean kitchen or that swept floor, when first thing in the morning I can actually see the chair that used to be a mountain of laundry, I'm so grateful to my productive late night self that I could cry. And sometimes I do. This Friday I want to toast my Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday self, and say, "You're Awesome Sauce." Or I won't say that because I'm pretty sure that's just plain stupid, but I will drink a margarita just for her.
Why why why did this happen you ask? I don't know...Motherhood is magical.
I will try again tomorrow. I wasn't planning on trying again. At 6:15 when I was trying to nurse Lucy June back down and ready to forego predawn wake ups forever, Jacob came back in the bedroom and I told him I was sorry that I'd ruined our last hour of sleep and that I wasn't going to bother with early morning writing again. And then in the pale light of morning, my sleep deprived husband, who speaks love in ruthless ironies, proceeded to give me a hard time for giving up after one day... because he's a prince, and he loves it when I get chances to do stuff that I love. And if that isn't just the most inspiring thing. So he will be the reason that I get up early again tomorrow.
And for today we're going with Plan B.
Because the kids
both of them
can't help themselves. And I can't either.
(And, yes. I did have to look up how to calculate a batting average. I love you, big bro.)