I used to have a memory. I used to remember what I was going to do when I walked into one room from another. I used to remember stupid things, like tv schedules. Now, without the damn guide on the cable box I am lost. Oh to think of what life was like before on screen tv guides and remote controls.
Now, I have 5 kids. Five kids who run me around until I don’t know which way is up or my left from my right. If it weren’t for that make an L with your pointer finger and thumb thing I’d be totally screwed. Grocery lists are made and if they are lost in the egg section you’re going to come home with 3 boxes of Triscuits and no loaves of bread.
Sure, kids are an endless source of entertainment and complete chaos. You can make an awesome dinner of turkey breast, mashed potatoes and corn. The only thing they will eat is the corn which seems to give them enough energy to run laps around the kitchen island. All of that running also makes them poop for the second time in a day. Gross, I know, but this is my day, people!
Writing has become harder with the addiction of the triplets. My life revolves around taking care of them and their 2 older sisters. part of me wants to write about stuff other than the kids. I don’t want to completely exploit their cuteness before their 5th birthdays, dammit.
Ideas for writing come to me and then a kid tornado hits and I lose it all. They go to bed, I put the house back together and then when I sit down to write, it’s all gone.
Then posts like this get made. Don’t have a litter of kids. They will steal your thunder. The more you know.
