Why Extreme Jugglers Don't Blog

I miss this. Sitting down to chronicle my life. Document my experiences. Hell, I miss having a single, coherent thought to sit down and chronicle. But such is not my life right now. I am busy, running around trying desperately to keep up with a crazy work schedule, a thrillingly, awesomely energetic and inquisitive toddler, a house that needs upkeep, laundry that needs washing lest we all go naked or unfashionable, and a to-do list that sometimes seems to grow rather than shrink. All with a body that just seems to be getting larger, slower, and more protesting (protestant??) with each passing day. I'm proud of the fact that so far I HAVE been able to keep up fairly well, but some things have had to give. Blogging being one of them. Coherent self-reflection being another.

Which is a damn shame, because I really wish I had time to sit and just reflect right now. So many things are about to change. So many times I've had a fleeting thought and made a mental note, "I should do a post about that." Only to have that thought drowned in the next second by the 33,534,61 other things that sprint through my mind these days.

A letter to myself, for me to read during the newborn crazies, reminding myself of all the sane things that I would have liked to be reminded of last time.

A letter to my son, before he's born, capturing all of our dreams of him in the brief window before we actually get to meet.

An update on the pregnancy, the nursery progress, the showers and labor preparation we've done and all the excitement that I can feel building within me about the next 3.5 weeks.

And not to be forgotten, an update on my sweet baby girl, who delights me every second of every day. She is brilliant. She astounds me with what she knows, what she says, what she understands, what she can do. At 19 months, her vocabulary is probably approaching 250 words? More? She knows all her colors . . . even the obscure ones like grey. She makes up stories. She picks out her own clothes. She tells us what games she wants to play. She rationalizes. She compromises. She is the most incredible thing I've ever witnessed.

But alas. There is no time for it all. No mental capacity. I work overtime. At nights and on weekends. TH and I make spluttering attempts to keep up with our birth preparations, our relaxation exercises, our Dos to-do list that was hoped to have been completed by 30 weeks. I go to my doctor's appointments (I'm already at my weekly appointments! Can you believe THAT?!?! As of today, a fingertip dilated. eep.) and the elation I feel at seeing Dos again, at being told everything looks right on track, is soon covered with thick layers of the rest of my daily life. Even this entry, now, is only because I finished my work for the evening and my husband is at the office late. Otherwise we'd be spending time together.

How amusing that my life will actually slow down once I have a newborn.

And now I check the clock and see that it's after 9. And I know that it's bed time if I have any hope of getting up in the morning and continuing my juggling show with any hope of keeping the balls in the air rather than crashing down all around me.

G'night, Ned.