So....

February 2.

That was the last blog entry.

I suck at life.

I haven't blogged in 2 months.

So, here's somewhat of an explanation. 

First, we have a computer from when Steve Jobs was a teenager making computers in his garage, and it moves like a 95 year old with bad knees (makes the same noises, too)...so importing photos and video takes 5 lifetimes.  Seriously, I will start the import process, go out and run some errands, make dinner, recite pi up to the millionth number and still not have my photos.  I have two wee kids, who don't manage themselves -- trust me, I've tried.  Thanks for nothing, Disney Channel.  (please know I'm kidding).  So, waiting for my computer is not something for which I have a lot of extra time.  (Please send all donations to "Buy-Ben-and-Jeanette-a-computer-because-she-quit-her-teaching-job-to-stay-at-home-with-her-kids-and-now-they-can't-afford-a-new-computer-and-are-saving-for-a-trip-to-Disney-World-for-their-kids-and-not-a-computer" fund).

Secondly, our computer is in our room, away from aforementioned wee children and their area of play.  I feel some sense of guilt when I say to them, "Come on kids, mama's gotta do some typin on the computational machine...Eli, you start the crank so I can get it a-goin'."  (I guess I turn into an Appalachian woman when I talk to my children).   So, the only time I have to type is during nap time (don't get me started about nap time) or after my kids go to sleep...and that time is reserved for my DVR and Mr. J. Daniels (again, please know I'm kidding...I honestly get tipsy from an approved dose of NyQuil...I'm pretty sure smelling Jack Daniels would necessitate a stomach pump in the ER) (Notice how I didn't say anything about the DVR not being true?).  

Thirdly, there are so many other things on my to do list, like chipping away at that mound of dirty dishes in my sink (please send donations for a fancy dish washing machine to my "Dear God, why did we buy a house without a dishwasher" fund), trying to make a dent in the ubiquitous amount of laundry in our home, paying our bills (do you feel sorry for me, yet?), trying to locate that dang smell, thinking about cleaning our room, watching TV...I mean important stuff.

Finally, I'm really not that great of a writer and I'm a bit ADD.  What takes my smarter, more talented and focused friends 15 minutes  to whip up, takes me...longer.  I think of something to say, erase it because I'm sure it will offend someone, write something else, erase it because it will land me in a meeting with CPS, write something and Google whether or not I spelled that word correctly or in the right context, then I go to People.com and read about Hillary Duff's baby boy who has a very effeminate name, then I forget that I was writing a blog entry.  Soooo.

So, I'm going to try.  It's important to me to write about my children, because they're growing up so quickly, and I want to capture the moments/events that I'm sure I won't remember due to all the Kardashian reality shows I watch.  Also, I'm pretty sure Whitney already hates me for not writing about her as much as I have with Eli.  My letters to them and my stories about them mean a lot to me, and I hope to them someday.  So, I'm posting this as an accountability thing. It's out there.  I will begin to write more.  My brain needs some sort of exercise and reading Chelsea Handler books ain't gettin' it done.  So, my goal is twice a week.  I don't think anyone but my mother reads this anymore (and maybe not even her since I have to tell her the name of my blog every time I've asked if she's read it), but I guess that doesn't matter; I just gotta dance write.

I have Eli's 3 year post to put up still (for those of you keeping track, Eli turned 3 a month and a half ago) and Whitney's 4th and 5th months posts.  So, tomorrow, I'm hoping to get Whit's letters finished and then start uploading Eli's 3 year video I made him (so that post will be done around his 4th birthday).  Then, I'll write about what ever floats into the moth ball infested recesses of my brain. 

Mmmmm...malted milk balls (see if you can trace back that line of thought).