dear you

Tonight I sit here in a post-road-trip daze, waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in and avoiding the last pile of laundry waiting to be folded and put away. I sit wondering what happened to the joy of life -- life's expectancies, life's happy end-of-day feeling, life's adventures. At this chapter in my memoir, life is all piled up and smells funny.

We were in the car for six out of eight days last week, pedal to the floor to get that V4 engine to merge with highway traffic, stopping for quick bladder-emptyings by the side of the road, and listening to episodes of the Magic School Bus two or three or fifty times.

Of course, what better to do on a long drive than think and plan more road trips while the little one naps peacefully and the big one, earbuds implanted, zones out in the back seat? Thinking of Utah, Yosemite, Texas, Florida {ha!}...and all the Taco Bell bean burritos in between. What could be better? And then more money flows into the gas tank and more pounds settle on my rear end that hasn't moved in 300 miles and they begin to squabble, just a bit, about which DVD to watch next and when will we be there? And I question my sanity.

I seem to live in a constant tug-of-war between adventure and routine. Too much routine and I crave something new. Too much traffic, bad weather and antsy kids and I crave the star chart and list of morning jobs on the fridge. I suppose I'm probably not alone in this.

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Parenting lately has been more challenging than ever. I remember sitting down during afternoon nap time when my boys were little and scanning parenting books for solutions to all our concerns. I had time to think then, time to learn, time to process and implement.
Now -- things are messy. Big eating battles, listening problems, disrespect. And I have very little time to regroup and fight smart.

I recently redesigned this blog with the tagline -- to inspire, to entertain, to encourage -- and I had high hopes that each of my posts would meet these purposes. But then, with that high standard to reach, I fear I'll stop blogging altogether. I feel anything but funny, inspiring or encouraging most nights. My weary bones hardly have anything to say at all.

Thanks for listening. That's all I got.