Lost

My poor neglected blog.

Kitchen floor.

Eyebrows.

And toes.

Because if you want to pity something for being neglected, my feet need a pedicure like you can't believe.

Things are good, I've just been lost in the Burmuda triangle of raising small humans. I move in circles through the day wiping up handprints, filling sippy cups, strapping and unstrapping car seats. Park Days, Pee Wee Splash, watching Papa play football. I re-instituted Craft Days and drove an hour to buy 12x12 sheets of chipboard, getting lost in traffic on the way home. Then last night Miqui and I ventured to the ghetto grocery store and really did get lost in the dark, in a less than desirable neighborhood, without! cell phone service.

And even though I feel tired and busy, I also feel grateful that I do not have school drop off, sports, dance, piano, or any other extra to add to the mix. We are in the "let's just keep everyone alive" stage wandering around, never to be seen or heard from again.

Scrunch is my Miami with all the drama, spice, and flair that the city has to offer. Porkchop my Puerto Rico. Mostly because it was the most 'boy' sounding of the trifecta. At 15 months this kid is all boy! We've learned (repeatedly) that glass does not bounce. His expectation in life is that it needs to bounce, growl, or be tackled. If he learns to climb, forget it! I will have to close down the blog for sure. My little uterine resident is Burmuda herself. Happy to be headed to the beach even if it kills you getting there.

The more I think about this little metaphor, the more I'm liking it. Motherhood- Full of it's shark infested waters and breathtaking sunsets. Or not.

My point is, I once was lost and I still haven't figured my way out.