I was thinking yesterday about my recent blogginess, and I decided that I'm actually glad that the technology for blogging wasn't around until I had more than one child. (Okay, so maybe the technology did exist, but if it did, I sure didn't know about it...heck, we didn't even own a digital camera until right before our second child was born. And I won't even mention how old I was before I learned how to copy and paste.) Really, though, I think about all of the things that are going on with my kids right now (for example, the fact that Savanna is throwing her sippy cup at me because I gave her juice, and she doesn't really want juice, even though that's what she asked for) and I just have to wonder...what on earth would I have written about with only one baby?!
I imagine my posts would have centered on milestones, first smiles, first steps, first words, etc., but I have to admit, I kind of like the fact that I started this whole thing after the funny stories were already being told, the naughtiness was becoming the rule rather than the exception, and the dramas were being unfolded daily. I already look back at my life with one child and think, "wow, I really didn't have any clue what I was in for at all, did I?" Now, if I had a written record of all of my innocence and naivety about being a first time parent, (much the same as I am sure I will look back to this time and wonder how I was so stressed when I had it so easy) I think I'd feel a bit chagrined. Basically what I'm saying is that the built-in craziness of everyday life makes this the perfect season for me to publicly admit to my shortcomings, difficulties and misgivings as a parent...I've already had four years of practice, and that, my friends, has made all the difference.
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