A first time for everything.

You know when you tell someone that you'll never do something? I'll never sky-dive. I'll never pay that much for a pair of shoes. I'll never spank my kids. But deep in the back of your mind you knew you really would? So yeah, I said I would never have a blog. I fought it for a long time thinking that I just didn't have time for it. Then my 9 year old asked me what my grandparents were like. It made me a little more than sad when I realized it had only taken me about 4 minutes to relate to her the very limited memories I have of my grandparents. Granted I was 6 by the time 2 of them were gone and only 11 by the time the other two had passed. But I really would have loved to hear my Grandma talk about doing laundry in a bucket, or know if my Grandpa enjoyed being in the army. And then I was talking to my mother one day and asked her how she had dealt with one of the joys of motherhood and she said, "Oh I can't remember". I decided then and there that I should at least take a few moments every once in a while to record my thoughts and memories and ideas so that when the girls come to me one day and ask me how I felt about cleaning up throw-up in the middle of the night or how I felt when we elected a black president, or what the name of that cute boy with the freckles that sat by her in 3rd grade was ,(Zach) I'll say, let's go pull up the old blog and click on the barf/something amazing just happened/1st crush tags. They'll probably roll they're eyes at the idea of dealing with something so archaic as a blog, much the same way we do when we think of our parents living a normal life without a cell phone... or a cordless phone for that matter. But at least it will be something. And typing is so much faster for me than writing in a journal so...here we go.
For the 4 of you that may read this blog (thanks Mom, Melinda, Greg and Corbie) I hope you don't get too bored and that you don't think less of me as all of the voices in my head start speaking out loud.
So as I start this I'm thinking of the grandparents that I wish I knew better, the parents that I want to be like when I grow up, and the kids that might want to one day know the reasons why Mom ended up in the "special home" wearing the "special helmet".
Good Luck to all of us.