In case you've wondered, I'm not dead or on vacation. I've been working on teaching skating and entertaining my boys. As this was the first month of summer, they have wanted to hang out with me more than usual. Before the novelty wore off, I decided to focus on them more than the blog for the last little while. I do love my boys. Especially when they leave me messages like this:
Though I thrive on compliments, this is the best one I've ever received. It makes my heart melt.
I will write more frequently. I promise. Really. No, seriously, I will. But every time I sit down at the computer, someone little appears at the door and says something like, "Hey Mom, will you take me to the tennis court?" or "Is it bad that a hot pocket is on fire in the microwave?" or "Will you take us swimming?" or my favorite, "Let's do something!" I am sure I didn't do this to my own mother when I was younger. I'm sure that when my mother looked over the vast expanse of summer on the first day of vacation she saw only blue skies ahead. I don't recall ever being naughty or demanding.
I've decided to stop waiting for a large chunk of time to update the blog and just take what I can get when I can get it. I've finally accepted that there will never be a large chunk, only microscopic morsels. After all, I believe that motherhood is all about survival--doing what works for you so you can get some sleep and maybe a little peace every so often. Though I've consumed about three hundred popsicles so far this summer, sleep and peace have been hard to come by. I find myself skimming Pottery Barn catalogs and rearranging furniture, some of the few things the kids will allow me to do that do not directly involve or benefit them. I suddenly want to rip up the carpet and knock down some walls. I find paint brushes in the closet and stroke them as I inhale the musty scent of old paint, smiling wickedly as I consider what project to tackle next. These are sure signs that I'm starting to lose it.
