I had such high hopes for this blog, back when I decided it should be mine again. The last few months I have learned something a bit terrifying. I am boring. Each day has a pretty standard schedule: wake up in an empty bed to the unyielding shouts of a two year old. Mom! Mommy! Mom! Mommy! Time to cook up a bleary-eyed breakfast and unload the dishwasher. Time to forget to change a soggy morning diaper, time to feel guilty about not remembering to change it, time for family feud, the gameshow or the impending run-in with a surly 3 year old. Time for lunch, naps, and maybe some photography. Nope, not photography, laundry.I can get lost in the schedule for days and weeks at a time, and then it is time to get out of Lubbock, where the schedule generally resumes once we've landed in Oklahoma or Utah or Boise or california. The basics are so similar and tedious it is often hard to recognize and celebrate the intricates that make each day special. Like the first time Juliet ever said, "I love you too, Mom." instead of just parroting "I love you" back to me. Or the time bensen fell off a chair and immediately called out for daddy instead of mom.
That is the kind of stuff I hoped to blog more about. But instead I am up to my ears in memory foam, blogging about what I should have blogged but still haven't. And by the way i've been to Houston twice, am in Oklahoma, and will be in Utah for the third time and Boise for the second since the last time I blogged. I am a blailure. Or, blogging failure. At least I am not a momilure, as my children are still alive and fairly happy. And well traveled.