My blogging progress can be measured in baby steps. Over a year after it was first pondered, I finally narrowed down the name for the blog. Because I am not computer savvy, the set up was a disastrous, drawn-out day that ended with no actual posts. I marvel at the fact that I was able to create a log in, choose a platform, and upload a page format- which resembled my constant companion . . . my notebook. It was all so overwhelming.
Too many choices, and not enough knowledge about how to change the look of the blog. It didn't help that I was using an outdated 'Blogging for Dummies' book from the local library. The buttons they were guiding me to had been renamed and relocated. Ugghhh!! Translation . . . I hope you find my blog 'look' appealing, because to have to change the appearance of my page might actually take an act of God.
Now the continuous flow of post ideas stemming from amusing stories may benefit my blog, but my challenge to find the time to write or post continues to prove my biggest obstacle. After all, the reaction I frequently heard from friends when I shared my blog aspirations was: "How are you going to find the time?"
I confessed my fear of not being able to keep up with the demands of a blog to Fozzy during one of our late night 'do-you-remember-this-from-high-school' conversations. Fozzy became exasperated with me, "What are you worried about, Friend? Do you think the blog police are going to come after you if you don't produce a weekly or daily post?" She laughed harder than I did. My reaction was more of a nervous, tension-relief giggle. "Oh, I guess."
The biggest challenge now, a month after that mind-numbingly, long set-up day took place, is finding time to sit in front of the computer uninterrupted and type. I do enjoy sleep, very much so. Probably the thing I miss most before being a mom . . . not my bikini wearing capabilities, or my graying hair, or my messy house - just long, deep, uninterrupted sleep. Translation: when am I supposed to blog?
My days are full. I started working part time this school year, so when the kids are at school - I'm typically not home. The free time that I do afford myself usually includes a couple of overflowing laundry baskets begging to be sorted (and the children with no clean underwear in their drawers begging even louder).
For example, this evening I had 5 minutes of down time, and I ended up emptying the sandwich baggie/ Reynolds wrap drawer. (I must admit that I have discovered when I am not crazy busy, I become paralyzed with choices of how to fill my free time: laundry, housework, bill paying, laundry, fridge cleaning, counter top decluttering, laundry, etc.) There was a very impressive layer of toothpicks on the bottom of said drawer.
I have no idea what cause we would have to own this many toothpicks, but it was becoming increasingly frustrating that I could no longer close the drawer without the use of both my hands to keep everything tucked in, and a free hip to give it a quick jab. On a night when I secretly celebrate that Irish dancing lessons, and water polo games are all complete by 6:00 pm, AND my husband is home from work before dinner, where does the rest of the night go?
Well, after the occasional drawer tossing - there is reading someone a book, or listening to someone practice reading a book. Homework questions. Bath time - technically I didn't give the youngest two their bath tonight. I did, however, spend some time begging Mini, and a little later Tatonka, to save us a few pennies and instructed them to end their respective showers. I told them I didn't care whether everything was clean or not (with the exception of hair - I cannot tolerate the smell of dirty hair).
I refuse to let my kids go to school wearing clothes that don't fit, don't match, or don't look clean, so I pull clothes out of drawers for the youngest four every night. Curly likes to approve of all fashion choices relating to her young life, so it recently became a ritual for her to lay in bed like a little princess while I give her a 'choice' of what to wear. If she didn't feel moved by something in my hand, the process ended. Then the evening is no longer about clothing choices, and more about choosing how long to cry about the loss of choices.
To update the situation, I explained to her thru gritted teeth recently that getting dressed would now be about 'surprises.' That meant, she would find the outfit selected for her by her mother in the morning, and she would put it on with a smile and no comment or she would lose a 'movie ticket.' (movie tickets are my haphazardly used reward system in order to gain entry into the family movie night). This new system has eliminated a few minutes from my evening routine, and I am happier - which in the end is all that matters. Perhaps the experts would say that my five year old should be given choices. Oh well, there was very little chance that my kids were going to avoid counseling at some point, so this might just be her anger issue.
Tonight in addition to the ususal evening activities, I had to search for pay stubs and bank statements for the mortgage guy, so we can proceed with our refinance. Throw in a little food prep, a dishwasher needing emptying or loading, discipline issues, a spill either in the fridge, on the homework that should have been put away, or on the floor, and you can see how time slips way until I
find myself writing long after I would like to be curled up in my bed.
Hopefully, I will start to care more about writing blog entries than about whether or not lunches are prepared for tomorrow, and whether or not the floor is sticky. After all, like everything else in my life- I like a challenge. When people wondered how I would be able to do it, it only forced me to find a way. But if the blog posts don't appear on a regular basis, I won't tell the blog police if you won't!