That thought runs through my head at least twice a day. Sometimes I even manage to scribble the general idea down on a post it or McDonalds receipt. But for some reason I never quite get around to writing a blog post.
My youngest son asks to me have another baby. Followed by a lecture from my oldest on the dangers of “old women” getting pregnant. And I think, “I should blog about that.” My parents may finally be moving back to my town. After a 9 month stint here in 2002, YEARS of looking at houses, and much drama. It’s, as my son used to say, a little bit good and a little bit not good. And I think, “I should blog about that.”
My 8 year old regresses to the 3 year old version of himself. Complete with tantrums, pouting, and screaming all day long. I would say the only thing missing is toileting accidents and unhealthy obsession with boobs but I don’t want to tempt Karma. I think, “I should blog about that.”
After a month long stint of healthy eating and exercise I still manage to gain 5 pounds. None of my spring/summer clothes fit. This makes me want to eat. In between cookies I think, “I should blog about that.” My husband is going through some “issues” right now. I’m not sure if they’re mental or physical. I expect him to see him driving a convertible and wearing a toupee one day very soon.
I hope my replacement has fun going to Rush concerts and listening to him snore. I think, “I should blog about that.” My oldest son grabs my laptop and completes “very important updates”. Even though I was in the middle of an online book club chat. Now my computer is acting funky. And he wants to do more “stuff” to it.
And I think, “I should blog about that.” I take my children out for a Mexican dinner. While waiting for the food they entertain me with ‘Guess the Country Charades’. It is mildly offensive but extremely hilarious. I beg them to let me vlog it and think, “I should blog about this.” A local(ish) man was arrested for killing a neighbor’s pygmy goat. He was found standing near it, half naked, wearing a bra and panties.
Also, he was high on bath salts. I think, “I REALLY should blog about that.” Also, “Thank God I’m not related to him.” I could go on and on but somebody thought the scraps of paper in my car were trash. One husband’s trash is another wife’s future non-blog posts. Or something like that. “I should blog about that!”