How strange, but when I go back into my blog to find something or reference something, I am jealous of my own blog. I was sending a co-worker links to the Dominican trips, and I got stuck looking at all the posts, and the kids and how much they've grown. And how grown I thought they were then. But really I sat there and thought wow. I wish I had a blog like this. And I do have a blog like this! Well, I had a blog like this. But I don't have it anymore. And it makes me sad, but not motivated. I do write blogs in my head all the time. And I tried a voice recorder thing, which worked well, but it could only actually send small amounts to an email or other program. I couldn't copy and paste it anywhere if I talked a lot. And by a lot, I mean more than what I've already written here. That's not much. There's just always trade-offs. Write about the kids, or spend time with them? Stress about writing about the events, or take a bath and de-stress. Stay up and write, or get some sleep. There's not enough hours in the day, but even if there were more, there wouldn't be enough. A strange conundrum I think.
I really think part of this is also not knowing what to write. I kind of wanted this not just for others to keep up with us, but for the kids too. For when they get older and have kids of their own and they wonder how I kept my sanity, and they'll read the blog books and they'll realize... I didn't. I yelled and screamed and made them cry at times too. But we also had fun, and cared, and loved each other. And it all comes every day and it all comes with life. But now. Now I struggle because life isn't always great or pretty or shareable. I could write that last winter was awful. I really didn't like my job, was struggling being married, and felt that somehow, somewhere, I lost myself. I wrote that a million times in my head, but it's different typing it into a computer. Fortunately, I have a good doctor, who prescribed just a tiny amount of anti-depressants, and I got a new job, and I enjoy being married again, and all is back in its place. Except the winter thing. That seems to be coming whether I want it to or not.
And then there's Abby. She's difficult to write about because she's amazing and awesome, and anxious and OCD. Truly and diagnosed and nearly diagnosed with Tourette's as well. She gets counseling once a week, is on the same anti-depressant I am but at a higher dose, and she thinks the world just rests on her shoulders. I want to take the world off, but I can't. And it's exhausting, and difficult, and amazing that she can do all she can do with all of the worries that she has. And the acne. Dear Lord, do you write about the two large pimples that seem to have tripled in size above her lip in the week that I've been gone? Maybe I write about them but just don't post a picture??
Life is messy. I don't think I'm unique but sometimes it feels alone. Like writing this stuff makes it more real, or me a worse parent, or a worse daughter, sister, wife. But maybe it just makes me like everyone else, but because I don't write about it no one will ever know that I'm just like them because we don't talk about it.
But tonight, as I sit in my hotel room in India, I'm Thankful. I'm truly thankful for Thanksgiving next week and the break it will give me. I'm looking forward to kids doing crafts, and carrom and bounce off tournaments (be forewarned to those coming to my house for Thanksgiving!). And just time to be. And if my blog gets updated? Great. But if not... that's life.
I really think part of this is also not knowing what to write. I kind of wanted this not just for others to keep up with us, but for the kids too. For when they get older and have kids of their own and they wonder how I kept my sanity, and they'll read the blog books and they'll realize... I didn't. I yelled and screamed and made them cry at times too. But we also had fun, and cared, and loved each other. And it all comes every day and it all comes with life. But now. Now I struggle because life isn't always great or pretty or shareable. I could write that last winter was awful. I really didn't like my job, was struggling being married, and felt that somehow, somewhere, I lost myself. I wrote that a million times in my head, but it's different typing it into a computer. Fortunately, I have a good doctor, who prescribed just a tiny amount of anti-depressants, and I got a new job, and I enjoy being married again, and all is back in its place. Except the winter thing. That seems to be coming whether I want it to or not.
And then there's Abby. She's difficult to write about because she's amazing and awesome, and anxious and OCD. Truly and diagnosed and nearly diagnosed with Tourette's as well. She gets counseling once a week, is on the same anti-depressant I am but at a higher dose, and she thinks the world just rests on her shoulders. I want to take the world off, but I can't. And it's exhausting, and difficult, and amazing that she can do all she can do with all of the worries that she has. And the acne. Dear Lord, do you write about the two large pimples that seem to have tripled in size above her lip in the week that I've been gone? Maybe I write about them but just don't post a picture??
Life is messy. I don't think I'm unique but sometimes it feels alone. Like writing this stuff makes it more real, or me a worse parent, or a worse daughter, sister, wife. But maybe it just makes me like everyone else, but because I don't write about it no one will ever know that I'm just like them because we don't talk about it.
But tonight, as I sit in my hotel room in India, I'm Thankful. I'm truly thankful for Thanksgiving next week and the break it will give me. I'm looking forward to kids doing crafts, and carrom and bounce off tournaments (be forewarned to those coming to my house for Thanksgiving!). And just time to be. And if my blog gets updated? Great. But if not... that's life.
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