I have a few friends who have been bugging me to blog for some time now. I am not sure why as my life is not very interesting unless you consider schlepping kids to and fro and constantly running late interesting. I tried my hand at blogging a few years ago when our house was under renovation. I liked it, but I only had two kids then. And whatever math geniuses (geniusi?) came up with the formula that three is only one greater than two never had children.
So, all of that is a long way of saying that I am going to try blogging again.
First, some words of introduction. I am a stay at home mom of three boys. I also have a husband. Which essentially means I take care of four males every day. This is what it’s like talking with them:
S, my older son, is 6. He is obsessed with handball (aka Four Square) so finding time to talk with him is becoming more challenging.
Mom: Hey, bud, how was your day?
S: Good. Did you know that there was once a crustatean that had 10 heads?
Mom: No, really?
S: Yeah, Jack Smully told me.
Mom: Interesting.
S: Also, you know the “F” word?
Mom: (Responds with raised eyebrows) Yes?
S: Well, you were wrong. It’s not “fat” it’s “f---.”
J, my middle guy, is 4. He is a human fireball and obsessed with all things football. We nicknamed him Toughy when he was about 6 months old and the nickname stands.
Mom: Hey Jack, how was your sleep?
Jack: Who won the game, the New York Giants or the New England Patriots?
Mom: The Patriots.
Jack: That’s because Tom Brady is the best quarterback in the NFL.
Mom: Don’t let your dad hear you say that.
Jack: Well, it’ can’t be Brett Favre because the Packers are 13-3 and the Patriots are 16-0. Did the Colts beat the Titans? (etc)
B, our baby, is two. B is a walking Buddha. Happy, content, loves to tackle his brothers. Maybe The Buddha didn’t tackle his brothers, but if he did, he would have had as much fun with it as our B. B doesn’t have a whole lot of words yet. As a matter of fact, his repertoire consists mostly of Mama, Dada, no, mine and various animal noises. So a conversation with him often goes like this:
Ben: Mama.
Mom: Yes, B, I am Mama.
Ben: Mama, Dada.
Mom: Yes, Mommy and Daddy love you.
Ben: Mama, Dada, moo.
Mom: Do you see a cow, B?
Ben: No. Mama, Dada, heehaw.
A, my husband, is a great man. When he comes home from work, all handsome and inspired by some new idea he had, I wonder what it must be like for him to come home to a haggard wife who has spagghetti sauce crusted in her hair and looks like she ran two marathons since he left for work this morning. After we put the kids down, our conversations go something like this:
A: I just read on DailyKos that Obama is coming from behind in the Iowa polls.
Me: Grunt.
A: Yeah, and it's great because if Obama can take Iowa, that changes the whole race.
Me: Grunt, grunt.
A: I mean, have you thought about what this might mean? Not since the 1960 election when......
Poor guy. I used to love to talk politics and current events with him. It's one of the reasons he fell in love with me, I think. But that was long before bus schedules, room mom obligations, snacks needed to be made and lunchboxes needed to be packed. Sigh....
OK. What else should you know? I used to have a profession where precision and attention to detail were important. I was good at it. Now I feel like I am always one small step away from going completely off the deep end. I feel like my real life is that Tina Fey commercial where she runs from one crisis to the next. But my new year’s resolution is to simplify, simplify, simplify so hopefully I will minimize some of that frantic feeling. I really like to write, I love to read, I loooove good food, and I hate to work out. But I have joined a gym and am hell bent on getting my rear in gear. I tell my friends that the real reason I don’t blog is because I barely have time to live my life, no less to write about it, but they tell me it becomes a release, a hobby, something you look forward to as opposed to an obligation.
So, here I am. Until next time.
SPT
