But the primary reason I ought to write these stories up in Word is in the off chance one of our beautiful children were to cruise up to the computer and with one chubby little finger, click the shiny red "Master" switch.
Theoretically, this would happen less than a second before I were to click "Publish Post" for a well thought out story on my blog. Of course, if I had written this well thought out story in Word, it would have been recovered if the power supply to the computer was terminated. But Blogger isn't that smart.
I'm not blaming William. It was entirely my fault. I should know better than to let the babies have free run of the house, right after nap time, as I was finishing my blog posting. Normally, I would save my blog posting for the evening once the babies are
My memory isn't what it use to be. Considering I walked around my office for a solid five minutes today while trying to figure out where I placed my cell phone ... Charlie, who had called me 10 minutes earlier, helped me solve the grand mystery when he suggested that maybe I was talking on it. I'm not even going to try and replicate the story I had written, earlier. There is no way I can recall the exact thoughts I had a mere two hours ago. But, I'll try.
My well thought-out story had something to do with how I love Friday nights. How it's been a ritual at our house that Friday night is pizza night. Homemade, from scratch pizza. I'll make the dough during the day while the babies are napping and by the time Charlie comes home from work, the dough has risen and we roll out our pizzas. We drink a bottle of red wine and reflect on the week.
My story had something to do with how today was a glorious day. The May Gray and June Gloom are gone, their departure perfectly coinciding with the end of school. Gone are the days of quiet. In it's place are the sounds, resonating through our neighborhood, of kids laughing and playing. Exuberant because they don't have to get up at 6:30 AM to catch the school bus for at least another 10 weeks. Exuberant because instead of being stuck in a building all day, they can rejoice in the outdoors and splash in the neighborhood pool.
My story had something to do with how our babies are enamored with our dogs and how our dogs, have not had a moment of peace since the babies have come in to their world. It had something to do with how I have relaxed my standards on cleanliness ... a lot ... since our babies have arrived. As newborns, I wouldn't let anything near them that hadn't been thoroughly washed and sterlized. Now, I don't bat an eye when the babies play in a bucket of water that the dogs had been drinking out of moments earlier ... or freak out when I see Carolyn sporting a potty-training seat around her neck. Instead of running for a can of Lysol, I'm running for my camera.
My story had something to do with how our babies are growing up faster than I'd like them to. How last year at this time they were still immobile in their bouncy chairs, barely able to roll over and just learning how to babble. A year later ... they are scaling each others booster chairs to steal a nibble here and there, chasing our dogs around the yard with arms outstretched and yelling "Baa daa zee dee hiya hiya hiya DOGGIE!"
My story had something to do with how there are few things that make our children happier than a puddle of water that they can splash in, getting absolutely soaking wet, walking around in their diapers, and drinking fruit smoothies from straw cups in the afternoon. It had something to do with how excited I was that the magical days of summer are finally here. That our babies are reaching that point where they can enjoy the zoo ... the Merry-Go-Round ... the beach and knocking down sand castles.
What my story didn't have anything to do with is how yelling "OH NO WILLIAM NO NO NO!!!" would make my 20-month old baby feel. How his huge blue eyes would look at me in bewilderment, for just a moment, and then divert to the ground because he knew that he had done something wrong. How he would then go stand in a corner, on his own accord, and glance back at me with tears in his eyes because he was so distraught that he'd made me upset ... how my words, had hurt his feelings so badly. And how I in turn - could suddenly care less about the well-thought out story I had just written. But, another lesson learned. I will be writing my stories up in Word ... from this point on.