Thursday, May 7, 2015

Real Life, Uncut.

I have been feeling like I have no time for blogging lately.  Between the giant time machine that I'm attempting to make for VBS and the birthday party I just threw and the Mother's Day gifts I was making and the trips to town for expected and unexpected doctor visits and the ten eggs that need washed and put away every day and the three kids who expect to eat three times a day, I just have no brain energy left to write.

But what I actually mean, is that I have no brain energy left to create cutesy, entertaining, inspiring posts graciously interspersed with perfectly-captured, Photoshop-enhanced photos.


So it's got to be real life or nothing.

Writing is cathartic for me.  I love capturing glimpses of life and going back to read them later.  But I'm failing to capture it because I'm waiting for something out-of-the-ordinary.  Something beyond the mundane.

I'm reading a novel right now called The Homeschool Experiment.  Sometimes I literally stop reading and wonder if I wrote it and forgot.  It seriously could have been written by my alter ego.  You know, the one that has time to write a book.  I have laughed till I cried.  It is exactly like my life - well, almost, except the part about the trip to California.  Oh, and the part where they have a Sonic practically in their backyard.  I wish.

But it made me realize that at least one person out there lives a life nearly identical to mine with real struggles with real children who refuse to eat real food and really fall asleep at the table hours later.  And children who are supposed to be getting their shoes on but instead are pretending to be horses and are galloping all over the living room floor.  And problems with mommy-tempers that are too short.  And real doubts that descend every day making me wonder if I'm ruining our children.

So I'm just going to write.  It may not have a point.  I might forget to finish my sentences because I have to rescue the hair of the 2-year-old from the amazingly strong grip of the 1-year-old.

So if it's a chore to wade through the details, I'll refer you to the much funnier, much more reliable blogs of Kari Patterson, the Purposeful Housewife, or Mudpies and Make-up.

I'm sure these moms would never watch their baby reaching for a chocolate cake crumb on the floor and not make a desperate attempt to stop said crumb from entering her mouth.

This morning at 4:20, Kyla came in to our room and told me that she'd had a dream that I told her I was going to cut off her ear because she wouldn't go poop.  She didn't seem terribly traumatized by it.  She just wanted to tell me.  Then she went back to bed.  This morning she added one more detail:  "And you had a scissors in your hand!"

When Kamryn got up, I asked her if she'd had any dreams.  She nodded enthusiastically.  I asked her what she dreamed about.  "I, uh, dreamed I was going to sleep!"

Then she said, "I have shorts on.  'Cause it's nice out there!"  She looked out the window.  "The tree's not wetting anymore!"  (It rained yesterday.)

On Sunday at church Kyla found a fabric ring lying on the gravel.  She's been wearing it a lot since then.  She informed me that one time it fell in the toilet when she was going potty and she had to reach in and get it.  "Kyla!  That's gross!!  Did you wash it really, really good with soap?"  "No," she calmly informed me.  "I just let it sit out for a while."

When I go up to check on the girls before I go to bed, I often have to grab my camera and return to their room for a photo.  They are crazy sleepers.

So that's life around here, folks.

Happy Thursday-that-feels-like-it-should-be-Friday!

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