So here we are, a year later and I am just now writing a second post. It is quite possible that I am doing this wrong.
In my defense, I have five children. Five. From teenager to toddler. To me, five children should be a valid excuse for everything up to and including stabbing people in the face with pointy objects. It’s not, but it should be because when a person has more than two, they just aren’t fully sane anymore. It isn’t their fault. These things are sneaky. They come out all cute and sweet and wonderful. And then they aren’t. And you miss cute and sweet and wonderful, so you have another one….or four. And they keep coming out all perfect and lovely….and then they turn into little monsters and you are stuck with them. A lot of them. You are outnumbered by creatures of the dark with more energy than you can imagine. And they are hungry. At different times.
You have all these plans before you have children on what kind of a parent you are going to be. You are going to do crafts and sing songs and read books. You listen to your friends talking about storytime or see them posting pictures of the gingerbread villages their children made on a rainy afternoon and you look over at your child eating their books. Eating them. All of them. And you think to yourself that this can’t be right…but it is. And that dream you had of one day, your little angel, no longer little, sitting there with their own little angels, reading the exact same book that you saved from their childhood and remembering snuggling with you and you can picture them wiping a tear of joy for remembering how special that moment was, dies. By being eaten.
When you have one, or even two children, they are dressed nicely even to play outside. Once you get to five, they probably look homeless. And you don’t care. At least they are dressed. As long as everything that needs to be covered is covered, that day is counted as a win and you move along. On days that they look especially bad, you might pretend that you don’t know the homeless midgets that are following you around the store asking you to buy them things, but even then, that day is still counted as a win. They are dressed.
So, back to the original point of this entire post. I’ve been busy. With homeless midgets who eat books. Or something. But since TWO PEOPLE started following me, I felt like I should post at least SOMETHING, even if it was only something explaining why I was not posting anything. Which, if I did not already know I was more than a little crazypants, would make me worry about my sanity. Who feels pressured by two random people who somehow found my first blog and decided to follow it, even after nothing being posted in a year? Which makes me wonder about their state of mind as well. But only wondering, no judgements. So anyway, hopefully I will post more for my loyal(ish) followers. And hopefully I will be funny. Or interesting. Or something.