Just Start Writing

Oh, blog, I love you and you frustrate me. I love the idea of having my little family's history all written down. I love looking back at happenings and musings. I love that people can check in if they want. I'm frustrated that I never get a chance to write these days. And then if I do get a chance the thought is so daunting I actually don't want to. Because it has to be just so. Clever . . . only if other people think me tricking Noah into a nap is as clever as I do, otherwise I guess not today . . . And have the pictures . . . where to dig those up (no camera, really . . .) And since the task is great and the brain is feeling squeezy, I'll just write to an inanimate object. Or not so much object as  . . . I really don't know the classification of this new-century noun called a blog . . .

Phew, that's out of my system. Excellent advice from my 8th grade English teacher who suggested that if you don't know what to write, just start writing. She would probably recommend, then go back and delete it afterward, but guess what folks, I'm turning in the rough draft.

Because I want to remember how fun it was when we were an old fashioned family, and made caramel corn ("sticky popcorn," is the new name around here, I guess), and listened to the football game on the radio. Game stunk, popcorn was delicious.

Because I want to remember how my boys decided a fun activity one afternoon would be looking through cookbooks. They found many, many things that I have pledged to make. And these guys don't forget, I'd better get out my calendar. Then that night around the dinner table Gary said, "What should we do for Andrew's birthday?" Josh offered, "I saw a great cake today in a cookbook." And Noah said, "I know! We can get a present for him! And for me."

Because I want to remember the kindness of the neighbors accross the street that offered one day after church to watch our kids for a date night. Were they prompted by the sacrament meeting wrestle-mania? I don't know, but I do know that I ate barbeque with my man, and I said Gary looked good and he said I looked good and we both said we love being together.

Because I want to remember the puppet show I put on with Josh. Nothing fancy, 5 minutes of prep. Found the script in The Friend, used paper guys we already had, used bee stickers as leprosy spots . . . and Josh simply beamed. We did a repeat performance the next day. I haven't done anything like that before, but that million-watt smile makes me want to try a little harder.

Because I should report that Noah's destructiveness has decreased a little, unless you count running with very sharp knives. When I took one such knife away from him he cried, "But they're for b-tacking!" "Well, why don't you b-tack with a spoon?" I suggested. "Because they're not dangerous," was his reply.

Because little Andrew is walking, and is SO excited about his new skills. My other kids were excited to walk, but nothing like this. Most of the time when he falls it's because he's worked himself into a frenzied happiness that topples him. And this should be in a post of its own, all about Andrew, which brings back the feelings that made it so I almost didn't write any of this . . .but, haha overwhelmed feelings, it's too late, you lose this round!