Memoirs of a tired Mommy.

I never finish anything. Don’t be like me.

That’s how any book to my daughters should start and finish. I haven’t written in ages. And by ages, I mean, the approximate ages of my daughters.

I used to write about exciting things, life changing profoundness and such. Nowadays I seem to possess the characteristic perplexities of, insert something cleverly descriptive yet simple. Oh the irony packed into that sentence.

Life has changed a lot. I am not plagued by singleness, nor able to spend hours on a good theological debate… And then write about it. I don’t/can’t write about marriage any more, now that I am. Not because I’ve lost passion for it, quite the opposite. It was and is everything I’ve hoped for, but I feel to elaborate on these answered prayers and fulfilled anticipations might seem obnoxious. And I am self-aware enough to make sure to keep my obnoxiousness doses in check. Except in cases of posting too many pictures of my children.

And now we’re back full circle. My children. I have children?!? When did adulthood happen? I have no idea. It really does sneak up on you like “my hair needs washed day”. You picture your whole life, that one day, you’ll get it all together, and the universe will host some live televised event welcoming you to grown up status. (Yes, live. Like so good you watch it live instead of on dvr or hulu.) ((Will my children know what either of those words are by the time they can read? Or will it be something new?))

Oh yes. Back to my girls. I didn’t get it together, or the ceremony. But God still entrusted me with two of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I could not be more attached and crazy about them. Crazy in the good way and the bad. I am with them every moment of every day. My sanity might suffer at times, but my joy is higher than Mt. Hood. (It’s late and I think I remember this to be a real thing, and I am pretty sure I could point to the state in which it resides. And I wanted to go with the less obvious Everest answer, which I’m realizing I can’t point to where that is. And now, I’m realizing that I’ve given away the embarrassingness that is, I stink at geography. Like horrible.)

How do I keep getting so off track? Oh I know. It’s my new mother brain. I converse with a toddler all day, we never stay in the same place for too long. My brain wouldn’t know what to do with a coherent well contemplated thought life.

If I can manage to sharpen my brain back to pre-baby brain cell status, I’d like to take up writing to my children. I keep a diary of keepsakes and milestones and professions of love already. But this will be different. For one, it’ll be public. Also, for fun, for encouragement, for authenticity and let’s be honest.. For praise.

I’m thinking it’ll be to teenage daughters. I hope they’ll laugh at me. I hope they’ll like me. I hope that I can teach them lessons about Jesus and love and life through it. I hope they’ll always know how much they are loved, thought about, fought for, covered in prayer and treasured.

Teenage daughters. Crazy. Really crazy. And can we discuss the mindblowingness that is how fast they grow, but how I’m unable to see them as anything but little?!

So here’s your first installment, beauties of mine. The ramblings of your very tired mother. Because you girls don’t sleep. But it’s after 11pm the night after you literally kept me up tag team style to the point I thought I would literally vomit from exhaustion. (It’s a very real thing.) I wonder where you girls get your horrible sleeping habits from?

With all my love,

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