I blog in my head more than on the computer

This may strike you as funny coming on the heels of my prior post, but can I just say that I think one of the things that holds me up from blogging more consistently is that the girls (Waylon is presently exempted from this indictment) are, pardon my French, being little shits at bedtime. Ugh. We've even implemented Weissbluth's "sleep rules" poster method (from one of those chapters in his book for older children) and a sticker chart, but alas, Georgia and June are managing to drive me to anger each night. Which is a real shame, because I hate for that to be the final impression they have of their parents at night, even though they seem to wake up not holding any grudges. And I don't know if Joe's just more patient than I am, or if I'm just more tired after a full day of watching children, but it's definitely me who is most prone to letting my frustration boil over in the form of stern words, a raised voice, harsh looks, and various threats (e.g., I had to tell June tonight that if she made me come back to help her find one more stuffed animal in her crib, that I'd remove them all). <--I'm sure that sounds super mean to you, but I swear, I really get to the point of wanting to punch the wall with their antics sometimes, and not just at bedtime. I try to be patient but I guess I'm not the most patient mother out there. I wish I could do better and always show them love and not anger, which - please don't misunderstand - is not the same thing as me saying that they do not need discipline or that Joe and I don't embrace our role of providing it. Anyway, it's frustrating because so often lately I feel like we'll have a great day, followed by a terrible ending; like a fun carnival ride that suddenly crashes and burns. After getting through dinner dishes and other cleanup, a recency effect seems to cause me to bitterly focus disproportionately on the bad parts of our day, and it doesn't leave me in the mood to post sweet stories and pictures. I sure hope the girls' lasting memories aren't the bad parts, too.

But in my head, you should know, I'm a fantastic blogger. I walk around pushing a stroller in the sun, snapping pictures here and there, composing succinct and witty entries about the following: Waylon's awesome t-shirts and onesies, June in general, Georgia's kindergarten exam, Georgia's diet/eating habits, the girls dancing to "Hot Stuff", everyone in dress up clothes, Waylon's curly hair in the heat, fun family outings, and more! And I wonder, why is no one leaving me comments, telling me how adorable these children are and how I have made their day with such fine Internet entertainment? Oh wait, that's right...I never actually created any of those posts on the computer. They were only in my head. Because at the end of the day, the kids have left me just wanting to veg out, plop down and watch TV in exhaustion, or in this weather, have a beer with my husband on the porch. (Which, granted, is not an altogether bad outcome either, but I do wish there was more time for both blogging and chilling.  Certainly many childhoods, including my own, have passed without being blogged about, and to no ill effect; that is not my concern. However, I consider blogging to be a hobby of mine, something that in theory I'm doing for enjoyment, so it bums me out when it falls by the wayside, or worse, feels like a chore.)

Sorry you just got a stream of consciousness entry of the worst possible sort:  blogging about blogging. I suppose you can let me know which of the above entries you'd prefer that I actually shake out of my imagination and on to your screen, if any.