I come here to write and I have nothing. No words. Or not the words that I want to write.
I want to write about the bird in our chimney and how Pedro (my hero) got it out. After I convinced him that there was indeed a bird in our chimney. And how scared Sage was. And how it might have been because I told him he was the man of the house since Dad was at work and Papa was sleeping. Oops. And how after Pedro gave be a disbelieving look that there was a bird in our chimney and how he was going to have to open the flue to see and I hurried the kids upstairs with Nana and how Sage ran up the stairs like someone had promised him candy for getting there first. And how before Nana, Kolby, and Levi even made it up the landing the bird had flown out of the fireplace, into the fireplace cover, recovered and then flew smack into the huge window and fell to the floor. And how Pedro nonchalantly got his hankie out, picked up the bird while I opened the front door and then he let it fly away.
I want to write about Levi and his terrible sleeping habits and how I cannot break him of them. It is a viscous cycle.
And how tired I am.
And I just don't have the funny words to say them. They aren't coherent thoughts.
My fingers don't know where to start typing.
I want to tell you about the splash park that we went to this morning with 3 or 4 daycares. And how I would never want my kids in those daycares.
I want to tell you how Levi threw up twice last week, in about twelve hours, and I had myself convinced he was getting the chicken pox. But he didn't.
I want to tell someone but I'm just so tired. And then I wonder who am I telling anyway? Weird. I feel compelled to write these things. But for who?
I guess for my family someday.
Read this family, I am tired. Being your mamma and your wife makes me tired. And I love every minute of it.