The guilt pang…or in my case pangs…have been unyielding. The pangs should be from my failed attempts to become a somewhat "Green" home, or not sending out thank you notes within the 30 day etiquette window. Hell, who am I kidding? My guilt list could go on for days. Blogging has been on my to-do list for weeks; Right next to folding laundry and existing. Blogging is important to me, but clearly the task of existing is taking priority. Each morning as I wake around 4am, sit at my computer and begin working I silently lament about how I haven't blogged for weeks…months by now. I blog in my head daily but getting those thoughts on paper, well, there just aren't enough hours in the day and my requests for more hours have gone unanswered.
As many of you know I started my own wine compliance consulting business. In short, I assist wineries to obtain and maintain the city, county, state and federal licenses required to be a winery or to sell wine. Three kids, an already full plate, why not start my own business that will occupy each moment of my time not spend cleaning, cooking and wiping asses? The fact that I have not been blogging is a sign that things have been busy. Really busy.
The flexibility is wonderful, but the work is double if not triple of what I was doing before. Top that all off with two toddlers and an excessively energetic, smart, stubborn, opinionated three year old, a household and a husband who has been working just as hard. It is certainly a recipe for….well...a lot of tears, frustration and many deep, deep sighs. But I wouldn't go back. Not for a million dollars…maybe billions though.
Looking back at my last posts, those thoughts were eons ago. Yet, time has passed so quickly. The boys are busy bees. Constantly fighting and bickering. Stealing toys and pulling each other down. Their personalities are certainly starting to shine through. "A" is very vocal. He has a lot to say without saying much. Each sentence of gibberish is a declaration. And failure to agree will certainly cause him to continue his monologue. "B" is mister cuddle bug. Sit on the ground, he is sure to stand right in front of you, turn, back up and plop himself in your lap regardless of what you want or think you want. She is, well, she is a test of patience. She's three. Someone said to me the other day that the terrible threes are almost as bad as the terrible twos. I am not so sure. I have a feeling it will be the terrible everything. He asked me the other day, "what's wrong with her?" My reply "She's three and some day she will be thirteen and then sixteen. We are screwed."
She yelled at a bike rider (from the car) that he had to put his helmet on or he would be in big trouble. She told me the other day, after one of the boys accidentally hit me in the face with a toy, that I should tell my papa so that the baby can go on a time out. She talks to me with her hands on her hips. His daughter.
But she also the source of so much laughter. While in the bathroom brushing her teeth, and doing her best to avoid the task, she was pointing out the usage of each item on the counter. Soap is for washing hands, lotion is for arms, and the spray is for papa's poop. "He stinks." I almost wet myself trying not to laugh.
Telling me each morning that she loves my hair regardless of the condition and telling me each night that she loves my eyes. Dark bags, wrinkles and all.
I wish I could catalog all of her antics…they would fill a book. Probably only a book a mother would love and she would hate.
I can give no guarantee on my blogging frequency. But the lack there of is certainly a sign that my plate is full and the laundry is still unfolded.