Look at me, I'm blogging. I'm still young. I'm one big flower on my dress shy of being Carry Bradshaw. Kids haven't changed my life AT all. I'm not delusional AT all. I mean I am currently watching Tom Delay shake his "wild thing" on Dancing With the Stars, and if he can put it all out there with a brown sequined vest on, I can put my legwarmers on and blog it out. Hang on, my baby is crying...
Ok, now what was I talking about...oh yeah, blogging. It sounds like you are verbally vomiting, "I *blogged* last night". I can do this. My friends say I should try it. They say it will be cathartic for me. I was reminded of that while watching a commercial for Prestique, (which I currently have a months worth of free samples for because my doctor thinks they are more cathartic than blogging...I'll show him. What a jerk).
So before you judge me too harshly, let me give you the back story on my neurosis. It all started when I was born I suppose, but didn't rear it's ugly head till I had my first child. I'm not one of "those" women. You know the women who wanted kids forever. The kind of women who were born to have kids...even though I guess all women were technically born to have kids...hmmm...I didn't want children when I got pregnant. My mom reminded me when I sobbed that I was pregnant that "when you ride the train, you had better be prepared to pay the conductor", thanks mom. But I wasn't ready. Ok hang on, my four year old is up...for the fifth time...
Now where was I? I was thinking while putting my baby to bed, about what the Professor told Jo in Little Women; that you should write what you know. So this blog will be about my day to day life. It may sound boring, and perhaps to everyone else on the planet including me it is. But I hope that by blogging it out I can get some sort of meaning from it. Maybe by verbally vomiting it all out on internet paper to complete strangers I will find a sense of purpose in the mindless repitition that seems to be my life now.
I write to remember as well. I want to remember so much during this phase of my life. I want to remember how it feels to wear Mickey Mouse T-shirts everyday and not have time for a haircut in three years. I don't want to turn into my mother, who when people come to me when I'm sixty and share their mothering frustrations I say something droll like, "Well, I had three kids I KNOW what it's like" or "I don't remember ever feeling that way, I think you are just too nervous". When my kids are grown and I see some young mother rocking in a corner of a grocery store with two little banchees running around the cart screaming "I have to pee" I want to remember how that feels, not judge her. I want to remember the good stuff too, the leg hugs, the cuddle times with daddy, seeing the top of a little head as it cruises past the counter top, the toothless grins and drool soaked onsies. And maybe...just maybe...someone else might read this someday and smile.
Oh crap. I just had a dreadful thought this could turn into my Nicholas Sparks novel...The Notebook...The Mom Notebook. *blog*
Signing off,
Mrs. Doogie Howser, M.omD.
