Time Marches On

The other day I was procratinating. What best to do when killing time, but surf the web?
While most bloggers return to land with lots of good linkage, my find was nothing new. Some time ago I posted the sad fact that my favourite links disappeared on bloglines (a site I use to follow blogs). I barely have time to post, so you can bet relocating these blog urls fell to the bottom of my ToDo list.

Yet, last night I found myself logging into Bloglines and viola! My favourites have reappeared. While clicking and revisiting my long lost friends, I noticed, with exception to some amazing serial bloggers, these blogs, for one reason or another, had sporadic breaks in posts, just like mine. I'm beginning to feel normal, a little.

Our life is the usual lately, consumed by work and amazed by my daughters' growing up each and every day. Isolated time with Babydoll and Cutiepie comes at a price, but it is something I gladly budget. Not surprisingly with little or no distractions, I am most at peace with them in the car or in the pool.

The time in the car is a mental delight, whether I'm eavesdropping on their latest gossip or fielding introspective questions from 5yo Cutiepie, "Mom, what does God do when he's not minding dead people in Heaven?" While I'm squirming to reply in the most mom-appropriate answer, I'm usually saved for words by 6yo Babydoll's rapid-fire answers.
Last week as we drove over the Sally Gap among the many deer in twilight, Cutiepie pondered dinosaurs in the wilderness. Babydoll quickly corrected her, "Silly, we have to go all the way back to the 80s to see dinosaurs!"

Yet it is in the pool where their lanky bodies and fearless swimming age and torment me with time flown by. Babydoll is long and lean and confident in and out of water. Cutiepie, though she swims quite well, manages a pretend float somewhat convincing she still needs me.

Striking a balance on all accounts for this mom is nearly impossible. This month we succumbed to the realisation that afterschool television does nothing but shape our precious daughters into out-of-control brats formerly known as angels. A little bit of rearing can go a long way. Which is why I spent a huge amount of November interviewing and selecting an apair. Deep sigh of relief. My nothing-short-of-a-miracle arrives next weekend. The girls are excited and I'm very much looking forward to it.

Somedays, you just have to admit when you need help!

Sign me,
A Relieved Mom