On Writing

I've wanted to be a writer for about ten years now. After I had three kids under three years old and all that that entailed, I felt like I should write everything down, let people know what that was like. It seemed a good way to get everything out of my head and on to the paper.

I would write short stories- the time when the twins emptied the eggs out of the carton in a trail across the floor while I showered, the time it took 2 hours to put them down for a twenty minute nap, the time Ethan broke his leg with a toddler fracture and I had to carry him while carrying the baby in a baby backpack. Ah, those were the days! 

Yep, these were stories that needed to heard and felt. Yet, instead of writing a book, I wrote it down in this blog. I vented my frustration when the kids were tiny, I was silent in midst of my depression, I was chatty while I was hyper, subdued when we lost our two babies and exultant when we had Declan. This blog has seen it all and while I haven't written a book- and I don't think I will- I have written this blog and it speaks for itself.