I "wrote" (in the most flexible form of the word possible) for 25 days straight before missing a day. Now I am a day late and a dollar short. I'm actually surprised that I made it that long. I have excuses. Things like a baby that suddenly refuses to be held by anybody else and parents that are visiting but I know you, dear reader, don't really care about my excuses. I missed a day. My apologies.
Blogging is such a strange concept. I get to write and you get to read. If you don't agree or (EVEN WORSE?) I write about you or an experience that we shared, well, what then? Only the brave people that I know (in real life) will comment on the things that they read here.
It usually starts with a little blushing on their part. I read your blog! Like reading my blog is something private, something that should be kept secret from me, or something special. Do you think you know me a little too well? Have I shared too much? I personally don't think so. I think that there are always two sides to every story. You are here to hear my side and usually it's my best side. Just remember that, please.
I wonder most about what my children will think. If this strange diary of mine lasts until they are old enough to read what I have shared, will the words I wrote match the memories they hold? This is mostly about them anyways. Their milestones, their childhood, their joys and their successes. So tightly connected to my successes and my failures as a mother- as their Mother.
And that, my friend, is why I write. I (mostly) write to remember and to celebrate my beautiful babies.
Thank you for coming. Thank you for reading. Thank you for allowing me a place to share my successes and my failures. I know I have both.
4 more days!