Those Were the Days

Well, here it is. I'm giving birth to my first blog post. The voice in my head is saying, "Keep it real. Don't try to be funny. Don't try to sound like an intellectual. Be yourself. And finally, screw 'em if they can't take a joke!" I think I need an epidural, or maybe some Bailey's in my coffee. This is a bit painful.


What are my goals? Is there an objective to this random, public journal writing? Do I have anything important to say? I always have something to say, but will anyone really want to read it? My teacher's were paid to read what I wrote (Not paid enough I might add!). Will I have to pay my friends? So many questions. This is no time to hesitate. Let's see where this takes us.


Goal? I want to remember these perfect days of snot and tantrums. I want to document minutes of the day. Like a photograph, but with words instead of pictures. I don't want to forget that Ava's hair is the exact colour of 14K gold. That one curl wrapped around my finger could be mistaken for my wedding band.


Objective? To maintain a sense of humour amidst the chaos. To gain perspective on the trivial and the monumental milestones of our lives. Minutes could easily pass into oblivion if I don't think to write them down. Like Thane telling me yesterday, a couple of grade fives made fun of his new parka. They told him it looked like a girl's coat. But he stood up to them. He gave them examples of other kids with parka's just like his. He asked why they never bothered to make fun of those kids. And he wore his new parka to school today. Someday, when he's raising a kid he'll understand why I was brought to tears by his story. My little man in the making.


I'm running out of time. The bus comes in a minute. I think I know where I'm going with this blog thing. This first post was a natural delivery. Too bad the kids weren't!