moosh in indy.

Blog burnout.

We’ve all suffered it.

We’ve all felt guilty about it.

Laaaaaaame.

I personally haven’t had much to write about. I took my kid to a horse show, to pick raspberries and to get her some new pants that go past her ankle bone. Last night we hit up the circus and today we’re trekking down to Louisville to go to the Temple.

While we’ve had fantastic time, I don’t really expect you to care a whole lot that I’ve eaten enough raspberries to make my fingers red or that packing away clothes the moosh has grown out of sent me into a heap of weepiness.

So I don’t write about it. Instead I live it. And I don’t feel guilty about it.

OH! There was a time. If my blog when longer than three days without a post? I’d start throwing myself in front of cars and purposely placing myself in awkward situations in hopes blog fodder would result.

Laaaaame.

It’s okay if you don’t want to write. It’s okay if you have nothing to write about. Personally I’m thankful when people value my time enough by not posting posts such as “HoHum, I have nothing to write about so, um, I like went to the store and grandma came over and we made cookies and LOOK! here’s a picture of my kid with something kind of funny on their head! Sorry this sucks so bad, I’m a sucky blogger wah wah.”

Shooshie.

Quit talking mean about yourself. LOVE yourself. Love your blog. Love your readers. Loooooove.

If you went to the store and made cookies with grandma all while you kid had something funny on their head? EMBRACE IT! Tie it together! Get that ol’ brain working! One fantastic FANTASTIC example of beautiful simple posting is Angela over at Moon Cookie. (Oh hai Angela! Hope you don’t mind, I just love you too much. You’re too wonderful not to share with the world.)

This brings me to guest posting. Some people poo-poo guest posts. However if you have unique readers that a fellow blogger doesn’t, and you want to share their wit! and funny! and talent! with your readers than go ahead, try it out. Take a blog nap while you’re at it. And if someone asks YOU to guest post but you’re already in the blog dumps? Say no. And for the love don’t feel guilty.

I personally have guest posted twice for ladies suffering from blog fizzle in the last week.

This one is about the Hello Kitty jammies that almost were.

And this one is about leather drama.

Funny side note, I emailed these posts to both ladies for them to publish at their leisure. The formatting somehow went all wonky on my One Plus Two post. However the formatting is just right on Don Mills Diva. You know what? I think I kind of sound like a raging drunk on Jen’s blog. People have complained about my SPACES! and my HARD RETURNS! But really? Hard returns make me what I am.

First of all, take a gander at your left index finger. See all those keys surrounding it? Now imagine typing with three extra cush band-aids on that finger and you’ll be where I’m am at this moment. Nothing much, just a little minor surgery while trying to cut the best canteloupe ever in the history of melons. I should have known something was up when the knife cut into the rind like butter.

Anyway.

That was just a lame excuse to excuse myself from typos.

ONTO THE GAME!

Cody and I are Utah fans. We piled into the car early Saturday morning and took the five hour drive up to Ann Arbor Michigan. I myself took a five hour sleep. Dramamine, mmm. My husband decided to wear a BRIGHT RED “take the big house” shirt.

Through the streets of Ann Arbor.

I walked 15 feet behind in case of projectiles. Punches were thrown, lives were threatened and OH THE FOUR LETTER WORDS!

Thank heavens my husband is a big man or someone may have thought it a good idea to throw him in a garbage can.

When we finally made it into the stadium with the other 108,000 fans, the trash talking began. Thankfully I was between my husband and another man of large stature who had the trash talk skills. Left unattended at a football game I would get my trash kicked.

Michigan scored first. OH that made those blue and maize people COCKY. Then Utah scored but missed their field goal. The Michigan fans were out of their MINDS! with trash talk. Then Utah scored again. And again.

I’ll tell you what. I would have never believed 108,000 people could be so quiet. So humbled. As soon as it was obvious Michigan was going to lose the fans began to bail. Michigan fans? You may be passionate (Hello! Getting married at a football game?), but loyalty seems to be optional. And you seriously have an unhealthy relationship with really cheesy high fives.













(Say hi to the little fetus Ute fan in the picture! And no, it’s not me!)

With motherhood, marriage and the loss of certain calendar spreads, it becomes more and more obvious that I will never be a lot of things. But with wifehood and motherhood also comes a new appreciation for what I can, and hopefully will accomplish.

I will never be the hot chick on the back of some guys motorcycle.

I will be the girl behind the bike of a little kid, teaching her how to ride without training wheels.

I will never be a cheerleader at the sidelines of an NFL game.

I will be the cheerleader at the sidelines of a little league game with juice boxes at the ready.

I will never be a famous singer.

I will get to sing duets in the car to Barbie soundtracks.

I will never bring men to their knees.

I will always have band-aids for skinned knees.

I will never cause a room to stop and stare when I enter.

I will cause tears to stop with nothing but a hug.

I will never win prestigious awards to frame.

I will get “I LOVE YOU MOM” written in crayon, maybe even Sharpie, on my wall.

I will never be the leading lady in a Hollywood blockbuster.

I will always be the only one who can make my husband his favorite meal the way he likes it.

I will probably never cure a disease or deliver a baby.

I will always show up  on doorsteps with casseroles for people who just got out of the hospital, lost a loved one or had a baby.

I will never make millions laugh with my “male candor and feminine wit”.

But I can always make my kid laugh so hard she can’t breathe.

I will never be featured in National Geographic.

I will always be featured on the walls of my own house and on the walls of grandma and grandpa back home.

I will never wrestle alligators.

I will wrestle wet naked babies in the bathtub or tantrum throwing toddlers in the aisles of Target.

I will never be a mom to millions.

But I will always be the mom to at least one.

*****

What will you never always be?