A few weeks ago I bought a journal.  Nothing fancy.  A cute little journal with a brown and blue swirly design on the cover.  It’s the perfect size to fit into the over-sized purse I carry everywhere in lieu of a diaper bag.  I suppose it wasn’t a few weeks ago that I purchased this journal, it was last month.  Or possibly late July.

It doesn’t matter.  The point – yes, there’s a point! – is that I bought this journal to carry with me to write down all of the thoughts that flow through my head that I may want to blog about.  Sometimes Addison will do something I want to write about.  Or Addie will be playing at the bookstore and I’ll be daydreaming over a latte and a partial train of thought will flow into and out of my head before it fully forms.  And sometimes I’ll grab a napkin or a receipt to write down what I can pull out of it before it leaves me entirely.  I want to save that stream of consciousness for later when I have time to sit devote more attention to it.  I bought a journal for those instances.   It’s supposed to help me remember the things that I so often forget.

Lately, we’ve been in a phase of rapid development around here.  New words are popping up in Addie’s vocabulary every day.  She’s speaking in sentences which both blows my mind and makes me laugh all day long.  Addison is basically potty trained and gets so much joy out of going to the bathroom like a regular person.  There are so many thoughts running through my Mommy brain in any given afternoon that I can barely keep up with them.  And I always think, ‘Oh, I’ll totally remember this very important moment and write it down later.  How could I forget?  Who could forget this?’ And then later comes and I sit down at the computer and about all my mind can handle is a round of Mah Jong on Facebook.

This journal; it took me weeks to write in it at all.  Every time I went to reach for it in my purse I would decide that whatever it was I was about to commit to paper somehow wasn’t worthy.  I don’t know who I think is going to read this journal.  Barack Obama will never flip through it to read my notes about potty training (but if he did, he would go right out to the store and buy a bag of M&M’s for a potty prize).  It’s also unlikely that Anderson Cooper will ever find my journal and recite, on-air, all of Addison’s new words.   Exactly two pages in my journal are covered with incoherent ramblings.  I have guilt over not writing things down in the journal.  Guilt for purchasing something that is sitting unused and wasted.   Guilt about not following through with my plan.  What bothers me even more than not writing in the journal?  That I actually feel BAD ABOUT IT!  I have to break this cycle.

This.  All of this.  The point of THIS.  Was all to say that I forgot to blog about Addison’s first ballet class because I didn’t write it down in my journal.

ballet1

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