Alright. No more avoiding this blog. I'm here. I have my cup of decaf. I'm gonna write something. I might as well start with the truth.
I haven't known how to return to this forum since the tragedy in Newtown, CT.
The wind got knocked out of me.
The mission of this blog is to reflect upon moments of parenthood worth remembering.
How, in the face of such horror, can I whittle them down? I want to remember every single second.
And yet, I've realized in my self-imposed hiatus, that while I may want to remember every single second, that's not at all how life (or the brain of a thirty-something mother) works. In truth I can barely remember to move the wet clothes to the dryer 50% of the time. How can I remember every single second? And, let's be real, do I really want to remember every single second anyway? I think my memory would feel just as full without the recollection of my three year old taking a scissors to the sofa cushions.
But then again, I know those parents in Newtown, CT would give anything to find their child wielding scissors and cutting every cushion in the house. So ...
Simply put, it has felt difficult knowing where to begin again. The niche of writing about parenthood is much less of a niche these days. For many, it's a full time job. The internet is saturated with online opinions, stories, anecdotes, and lists of SEVEN THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT _____. But I didn't want to read a thing about what happened in Connecticut. I didn't want to read opinions. Who could possibly have any opinion other than horror? And if someone did ... I certainly didn't want to know about it. So I removed myself from the blogging hemisphere for a while. I didn't have anything to add to the aftermath conversation, and I wasn't ready to change the subject.
And then both my kids got the flu. And then they both got better. And then the sunlight shined past six o'clock, and we heard some woodpeckers chattering, and now there are purple flowers popping up across the street, and my brother's getting married soon, and the kids went up a shoe size each, and my three year old is nearly four, and the other day he told me that even when he's a "big, tall man" he's still gonna love me a lot. So ... I decided I better start writing again, because I don't want to forget all this while I'm busy trying to remember every single second.
It's Passover now - my favorite holiday. It's the time of year when everything begins again. The time of year when birds find their voices and swing sets find swingers. It's a time of year when they sell gluten-free matzah in the grocery store and you wonder to yourself ... if the Jews were really rushing across the vast desert towards freedom, did anybody really stop to say - "ya know, I feel a little bloated after I eat regular matzah, does anybody have any brown rice flour?"
I guess, what I mean to say is - it's the time of year when anything seems possible; even gluten-free matzah. So, what better time to start recording fresh memories? But first, I gotta move the wet clothes to the dryer ...