It's getting harder to blog. My schedule is getting busier and busier, work is monitoring internet usage, so I stay off during the day. Since Ally started school, I have to work later, and thus come home later. I have at most 2.5 hours with the kids in the evening, and, god, it's not enough. I constantly feel like I'm shorting them in one way or another. They only get a bath every other day or so, because it's just not how I want to spend the time with them. We have dish now, and I feel guilty becasue Ally loves those nature shows, they're educational, that's one of the reasons why we got the dish in the first place, but she never has time to watch them. Supper takes forever, and it's getting nicer out, and there just always seems like there's too much to do. I want them to have friends to play with and play with the dogs and have time in the sandbox (my god, Ally used to love the sandbox! We could sit her in it for hours and sit on the deck soaking up the sun), and instead, she's sitting at after-care waiting for someone to come and get her (and playing on the playground, granted, but she's not at home) and Anya's at day care (also on the playground). They're getting fresh air and having time to play, but I'm missing it. And then we get home and I'm missing it anyway, because they're playing make-believe games on their own while I'm trying to sort and folr, and put away the 5 loads of laundry I managed (or Rob) to get washed, but is sitting in a pile in my room collecting cat hair until I manage to get something done iwth it.
So I give this up, and I think about how it will help free up some time, but then I hear Mom laughing because Ally is gullible and she knows that because I wrote about it. And I thnk about why I started this blog in the first place. I wanted to connect with my family. I wanted to have a closer tie to them than I did before. I wanted share the love I have for my kdis and the fun things they do. To celebrate my life. And then it turned into something more. I got to thinking about my relationship with my parents, and how I just took them for granted most of my life and never even considered them as people. I never considered the impact I was having on them. I want to make a note of the person I am, and the person I'm becoming because after having kids, and raising them day-to-day: the person I am is changing. I want to have something to remind me because you can't capture a moment later. If you don't do it now, it's gone, changed by the impressions future events leave and remembered imperfectly. I wanted to capture a snapshot of time, since you can't take pictures of feelings and conversations. And I don't want to give up writing.
But it gets harder. Kids get so much more complicated as they grow. It's no simple task to relate an encounter anymore. They get complicated and can actually have a conversation with you. There haven't been Conversations from a Car for so long, because those conversations are actually conversations. Not just little one-liners tidbits that I can jot down and move on. Half the time I forget what I wanted to blog about before I get a chance anyway.
And those things that are really seriously on my mind? Are too hard. How can I deal with the feelings of failure that come when one daughter can't manage to get her teeth brushed in less than 10 minutes? When I find myself yelling at her constantly, because it's the only way she'll hear me? And I wonder how much of it's my fault because I spent too much time doing things for her instead of giving her any responsibilities of her own. I wonder how I could have done things differently so that she could have some idea of authority and respect for older people. But I don't have respect myself for adults, just because they're adults. They still might be idiots. But the point is that she is 6 and not allowed to call them on it. How do you teach a 6 year old that and not reek of hypocrisy? So she gets in trouble and it's my fault.
How do you deal with the fact that there's something medically wrong with your 3 year old and you have no idea what it is? You stand by helplessly and listen to a bunch of crackpots and nurse practitioners (same things, right?) throw random theories at you and have to sort through to guess which one might be right? Which course of action might not affect her development negatively as a side affect? Decide whether the side effects of one medicine might be worse than the falling down itself? Give your daughter a pill twice a day and not break down every single time she takes it happily and thanks me for giving it to her in a spoon full of applesauce instead of making her try to swallow it without (Tip: if you have to convince a kid to take a pill, give it to them once and let them chew it up. They'll be thankful for not having to taste it forever after) one and not know if you've made the right decision. And then when she stops falling down, you cry because the pills treat a genetic mutation that is dominant and if the pill is working that means that this may never go away, and she and her children will have to deal with this forever. How do you deal with desperately hoping that the solution you've been dying for doesn't work?
Me? I deal with it by not writing. But it's not fair. This is me too. This is who I am today, and if I'm writing this blog as a record of who I am today, it's cheating to skip this stuff. This is just as much me as any of the rest of it, and I should keep a record of it too. But it's hard.
I'm not promising more updates. But I'm not quitting. That's something, right?