what the heck is she thinking?

You are probably asking yourself, "what makes this person believe they can blog?" Well I may not be a scholar, but it just so happens I have the answer to that question.

A long, long time ago my parents sent me to school where I was taught to read and write. It took me some time to get comfortable using a pencil, but my teachers were patient and worked with me until my penmanship improved. I was an average student and was extremely pleased to discover my above-average aptitude for spelling and grammar. Most of the books I read throughout my childhood were assigned by my teachers; however, once a week my classmates and I visited the school library and were strongly encouraged to borrow a book of our choosing. Being a simple child I preferred light reading such as the "Encyclopedia Brown" and the "Amelia Bedelia" series. These books provided hours of adolescent entertainment and ignited my curiosity and imagination. During High School, I discovered creative writing and took great pleasure in sharing my alleged sense of humor as well as exercise my scholastic proficiency. Later, in college, my focus deviated in a different direction and writing became more of a requirement than an instrument of creativity. Needless to say, it has been one of the few regrets in my life.

I have always had a deep respect for those who have capitalized on their literary gifts. Secretly, I imagine myself as the mastermind creating those captivating anecdotes; but my sensible side has always kept me fixated on my responsibilities and dissuaded from pursuing such a labor of love. I had to be content with living vicariously through these writers while their words carried me away on exciting new adventures. My commitments grew and with time I lacked sufficient privacy and solitude in which to indulge myself in novels. I began selecting shorter articles and stories and eventually discovered weblogs. Blogs seem to satisfy me not unlike a relaxing cup of coffee. They draw me in quickly then slow down long enough to savor their full-bodied flavor. Just as my thirst is quenched I am released with a feeling of gratification. I became greatly inspired by the variety of styles and found myself encouraged by the endless possibilities.

It was then I decided to ignore my sensible side and take a chance. I am not sure what, if anything, will come of it but at least I am no longer fantasizing about it. Wish me luck!

day two.

I know what you're thinking.  With a title like "day two", it's probably just another dull post with the same topic as yesterday.  Well you're wrong.  It's not even close to the same topic as yesterday.  I just couldn't produce a better title so early in the morning.  I'm simply too tired.

It all started about a year ago when I became an instant Stepmom. For a childless woman in her forties it was a bit of a culture shock to move into a house with two elementary school children.  Not only did I have to adjust to a lack of sleep, a higher decibel level and a never-ending mess, there was something much worse.  I never anticipated the amount of life it could suck from my body.

We thought it would be best for me to take things slow at first, but about six months ago my significant other and I decided I was ready to step up and assume my role in the family.  And what better way to break into parenting than taking on the morning routine?  I get out of bed, wake the kids, help the youngest shower and get dressed for school, serve up breakfast and send them on their way.  Then there's the in-between things (I won't bore you with the details about that now, we'll save that for another post).  After school there's always a struggle to get homework started, dinner on the table, get the kids to eat all so we can spend some quality "family time".  I never imagined in a million years that "family time" could be so draining.  I find myself looking forward to bedtime because as soon as they are all tucked in and we've completed the next chapter of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events I can finally relax. 

It's amazing, I feel as if I've aged about ten years since moving in last winter.  By 9:30 p.m. I am totally wiped out.  It's like running a marathon without sleep (not that I have the slightest clue what running a marathon in any condition feels like, but it was the first example that came to mind).  Once in a while I get a good nights sleep but I still wake up in the morning feeling exhausted.  It's been six months since I started this regular routine and my body is still rebelling.  I know it's a big change and I'd imagine this is what new parents go through when they have their first baby.  You go from years of sleeping soundly to suddenly getting jolted awake by a screaming child.  That can't be healthy for anyone, yet people have been doing it for millennia.  So why do I feel like the energizer bunny that overdosed on Valium?

my first time.

If Barbara Walters can lose her Twitter virginity at age 79 then I guess I'm not too old to lose my blogger virginity.  

The first time for anything can be very scary, but I figured everyone's doing it so why shouldn't I?  I'd heard so much about it so I was sure it was something I wanted to do.  I am a little shy so I gave myself plenty of time to build up enough courage to expose myself.  I had no idea how to begin so I enlisted the help of a few "how-to" guides for inspiration.  I put it off for months until the mood felt just right and eventually I gathered up enough nerve to do it. 

How was it you ask?  Well, it could've been better.  Sadly, I confess I was expecting something more memorable for my first time, but I suppose we all are.  I thought it would be much more meaningful, have more substance and flow like a well choreographed ballet but it was nothing of the kind.  I spent most of the time floundering, trying to find the rhythm and worrying about my performance.   I thought it would be more meaningful but afterward I was left with a feeling of disappointment.   I had built up my hopes for a mind-blowing experience, something I'd remember for a lifetime but I'm afraid I may have a hard time remembering it at all.   Good thing I backed it up to disk.