They say great literature is born out of suffering, so clearly mediocre blogs are born out of sleep deprivation. Writing a little bit each day reminds me I’m not going crazy, and I like that feeling. Since I blogged last, I have, in no particular order:
Worked a lot. Lost a job. Refinished some furniture. Planted a garden. Painted some–inside and out. Started cloth diapering. Potty trained. Stopped potty training. Tried potty training again. Lost some sleep. Cuddled two kids on one lap. Cried about nursing. Stopped nursing. Cried about not nursing. Started couponing. Learned Baby boy is a lover not a fighter. Also learned he’s a Mommy’s boy. Laughed at my precocious princess. Lost my temper at my stubborn princess. Cried about losing my temper. Felt like a lousy mother. Reminded myself that without the grace of God we’re all pretty lousy.
I have no great blogging aspirations, just a desire to keep my writing and grammar skills sharp. But if anyone wants to make me into the next Pioneer Woman, I can’t say I’d turn down the ad revenue.