I think I know how people become successful in the blogging world (and by successful I mean averaging more than two comments per post). Stick to a topic. Schedule posts. End in a question. Edit. Join discussion groups. Things like that.
I think I could do it. I think I could pull off writing a blog that more than you, my friends who are largely my friends outside of the blogging world anyway, would want to read. But the thing is, I don't want a blog to become work. I want mine to be exactly what it is - a way to share what's going on, in my home and in my head. My life isn't topical, and it rarely allows for revision. Besides, if I had a coherent blog, where would I put things like today, when I've been mostly introspective and withdrawn all day. Both boys were recovering from shots, but oddly, neither needed me. Silas slept his entire day away, waking up only to eat, and Asher was content to man his fever alone with his blanket and cartoons. Who am I to interfere?
So today has been unusual, in that I've had time to think. I was flipping channels tonight and saw the last ten minutes of Knight Rider. (Kn? or N? I'm not sure now that I think about it). I love that it's back on the air, even though we both know those ten minutes will probably be my only exposure to the program. But I saw it and remembered being young enough to live on Carol St., which probably means I was about 5, and having a fever on a Sunday night. I couldn't go to church with my mom, so my dad let me spend the evening on the couch watching the original (K?)Night Rider, and the privilege of watching such a big kid's show superceded the disappointment of having to stay home. Today has been full of thinking things like that.
I have this amazing pediatrician who did not exude one iota of judgment when my child colored on her floor and screamed (yes he did) while I tried to talk to her about Silas yesterday. Also, she is one of the most gentle people I have ever met. She is seriously in the top 5 reasons why I like where I live. A good pediatrician is worth her weight in formula, and that's saying something.
The thing I most resent about grief is that you lose more than the person who is gone. You lose time, and relationships, and security, and some measure (though hopefully not all) of hope. And because God is my Redeemer I know it all will be redeemed, but reclaiming that ground is much, much harder than I would ever have imagined.
See, where would I put all of that if I had a better blog?
It's been an odd day. But tomorrow morning we're finger painting and eating pumpkin muffins with friends, and the weather is supposed to be fallish, and it all sounds very fun to me. And while introspection has its place, so do pumpkin muffins, and I'm happy to have them both.
Good night everyone.