If you would to look through my blog editing page, you would see 6 unfinished posts. From the last week.
I've tried to write. To keep you, and I, and my kiddos, whom I hope will read this in the future as a love letter from their mother, because you better believe I'm never going to finish those damn baby books - to keep you all updated.
But I don't want to just write stats and information. I want to tell a story of our life. Weaving the words together to show you what our life is like, what our days entail. I want to make you laugh and cry everytime that I laugh and cry.
But I keep getting interrupted.
By a little girl who won't stop crying. Who doesn't sleep during the day but for 45 minute increments. By a little boy who so desperately wants someone to play cars with him. And puzzles. All day. By a husband who wants his wife to sit with him, and talk with him for a few minutes after both kids are asleep. By my own busy mind that relentlessly asks the same questions, without any answers.
And while so much of motherhood sounds like complaining (When do I get to sleep? Where did these stretch marks come from? Why does he have to ask me the same thing twelve times? Why can't he just freakin' find the butter himself?), it's really not. I promise. It's just that sometimes, misery loves company.
Things are great, really.
Because in all those interruptions, in all those moments when I don't get to finish what I wanted to, or take that moment I thought I could take, those are the moments where I am living. I'm not writing about the past or the future or the hopes. I'm living.
I'm racing cars down a track, then stopping to say 'hi, green car, how are you?', giving a big car hug when they meet at the end. Where there is a dinosaur and a dragon the car stops from attacking.
I'm playing Peek-a-boo with a drama queen of a Peanut whom loves attention - craves it - and watching her smile take over her entire face.
I'm holding hands with the man I married, on the couch, watching our favorite DVR'd shows, thinking that ten years ago, on a Friday night, I would've been at the bar, sipping rum & coke in a short, little dress, scoping out the scene and this - the couch, the TV, the sweatpants - this is so much better.
So that's why I haven't written about the fire house tour we took, where Bjorn jumped up to volunteer a demonstration of 'Stop, Drop and Roll' in which he stopped, dropped, and when asked to roll. . . . . he pretended he was bowling. Because that is how we allow him to 'throw' the ball in the house - by rolling.
Why I haven't posted pictures of our Halloween costumes - the Arrrgh Pirate Family - and told the story of a 2 year old and his little girlfriend, actually understanding what Halloween is all about, trick-or-treating through the neighborhood, fearlessly running from door to door. . . until that one, last, scary house.
Interruptions are why I haven't told you that Peanut has slept through the night every night for as long as I can remember now. How she smiles and laughs and actually grabs at and plays with her toys. I haven't told you that she can stand - by herself, all by herself! - for a millisecond, how she can hold up her head and chest and how she is thisclose to rolling over, from her back to her belly, which is supposed to be the most difficult of the rolling, but it's the one Bjorn did first as well.
I've decided that my life is built around these interruptions. They aren't annoyances, nor are they diversions from the life I should be leaving. Nope. These interruptions are my life. I'll enjoy them while they last.