what to write, what to write…

I used to love writing. I wrote something, somewhere, everyday, practically. In my journal, in notebooks, someplace online… just whatever, whenever.

Then I stopped. I don’t really know what happened. It’s like I lost interest. I haven’t written in my journal for months. I feel like things are passing me by, and by not recording them, I’ve been letting them slip away between my fingers.

Everything just happens so fast now. The kids are growing at alarming rates, the new school year is upon us, The Man and I are about to celebrate our eighth anniversary… I know that isn’t a really long time to be married in the grand scheme of things, but that’s not really my point. My point is that eight years of marriage just went by, and it feels like it was just a few months ago that I was standing next to that man, repeating my vows and saying I will, I do, forever.

I feel like I blink, and time passes.

My two older daughters, Noel and Alex, are both as tall as I am (that isn’t saying a lot, since I’m, like, 5’3”) but still… I remember being able to hoist them onto my hip! It wasn’t that long ago that they were looking up at me! And the younger two, Douglas and Therese, are right there, hot on their heels, growing faster than I think they should be. Douglas is eleven, and I had to buy him new pants recently; just the other day, I was looking through my closet, and found the sleeper I put him in the day we came home from the hospital.

It’s hard to believe, looking at him now, that he was ever that small.

I need to get better at recording things. I want to more than remember, I want to know for sure that my recollection of events are accurate. I want the evidence of my own words that things happened. Even if it’s only me that ever reads any of it. Even if it’s only me that wants to look back and “remember when…”