Hello World!

I've joined the land of Blog. Can't say that I really ever expected that to happen, but it has. I suppose it's a rather unfortunate turn of events for all of you reading this (and by "those of you" I mean the one single, solitary person who will feel obligated to come along for the ride. Hi, mom!). I've always had schemes in the back of my head for Internet domination. I can picture the money pouring in, the adoring fans swooning at my feet, the black studded jacket and tongue piercing . . . Oh, wait, that's Plan B--Rock 'n Roll stardom. Regardless, I've always liked the Internet. Who doesn't like shopping for shoes in your underwear? And it's even better when you can do it in front of the laptop drinking a frothy Sprite, rather than in a shoe store where the evil-eyed sales lady shoots laser beams at your cellulite rumpled rear.

In fact, I like the Internet so much that I make my husband pay 6 dollars a year to hold onto my web address. No, not this one. This one's free of course. There's another one. I won't release any details because it's going to be big when it debuts. BIG, I tell ya! It's only taken me three years to design the header, so there might be a bit of a wait. To tell the truth, I think I've given up on that website. Having kids make you give up a lot--sleep, clean clothes, showering, dreams of financial success.

Which brings us to my point. You weren't sure there was one, were you? Neither was I, but suddenly I somehow turned the conversation to kids. Actually, I had a lot more to say about my "other" website. All of it witty and charming, but alas, I've gone and gotten to the point already, so I must forge past.

Where was I? Oh, yes. The point of me being here. Kids. That's pretty much the gist of it. I'm sure you can deduce the rest.

But in case you can't, I'll help! (You're just dying to see how long I can make this first post, aren't you?)

Kids make you crazy. Kids (especially young ones who really don't speak yet, and possibly teenagers who talk in TXT SPEEK) don't make for great conversationalists, and so I spend my days ga-ga-ing to an 8 month old and singing with a 2.5 year old about monkeys jumping on the bed, who really should have realized at least by the second head wound that the jumping was a bad idea.

And all of this means, that when my husband gets home, he gets an earful. I have so much to tell him! Like how long the jelly toast that was flung at the ceiling by a tantrumming tot stayed glued there, or how many "moneys" said toddler tried to feed to her living breathing brother of a piggie bank. And I won't even go into attempts at retrieving the cash. And then there's the things you find in diapers, and the crazy places you find binkies, and the blood and gore and head wounds . . . Oh wait, that's those stupid monkeys and their incessant jumping.

And so, I'm almost to the point. I promise. Really. The point is that I need somewhere else to ramble--for the sake of my marriage and my sanity. And that's where you come in (Hi, mom!). I'm going to tell you all about my crazy thoughts. Or what I like to call "Freestyle Motherhood." You were wondering what that meant.

It basically is the idea that mom's live by the seat of their pants. They figure it out day-by-day. And you pretty much do what works for you. Every mom gets to pick their poison (figuratively speaking, hopefully).

I tried to do it by the book. I really did! And then they sent me home from the hospital with a living breathing 3 day old. And things went haywire. Quickly. I can't explain how quickly! There was a suitcase she was supposed to sleep in, and crying, and no sleep whatsoever. Yep, a suitcase. It was a light bed for jaundice which didn't just eerily look like a suitcase. It was a suitcase. My poor baby spent her first few days at home in a suitcase. What a way to say "Welcome to the family!" Anyway, I decided then and there to do it my way. And here I am almost 3 years later, alive and breathing. So, in my book, it worked!

And that, my friends, is Freestyle Motherhood or Freestyle Fatherhood for all those men reading. (Hi dad! I know mom's gonna make you read too.)

So join me, as we figure out what works. And please, if you've got something figured out, let me know and I'll hand the reigns over to you for a day and you can help us all out on this roller coaster known as parenthood.

Happy reading!