Excuses

At first I felt guilty that I didn't blog about their 6 month "birthday".

As if I missed commemorating a milestone.

But, that's not really what this blog is about, is it?

I'm not really interested in writing about every milestone/adorable thing they did or cute thing they wore.

I mean. Yeah. They are awesome and they do awesome things.

But...who cares?

It is not as if I suddenly didn’t have anything to write about. My children create an ample amount of material.

The truth is:

I stopped, because by the end of the day, I had nothing left to give.

The last 5 months have been a test of sanity.

Now don't get me wrong...their first 3 months was TRUE insanity.
Which is confusing, because despite that, I was able to write.

I think I was able to, because I had to.
I needed to have an outlet.
A place to arrange my thoughts.

Sorting out my own reality and fantasy.
Being at home almost all day- everyday -messes with your mind.

In a small way, writing down my thoughts at night, made it all seem a little less insane.

Then one day, I just couldn't anymore.

I just didn't have the drive, the heart or the desire.

My days sucked!
I didn't want to relive it!
I certainly didn't want to try and put a positive spin on it.

Blog about it.

Create some sort of illusion that I was,

"Embracing my challenges with humor, resourcefulness and perseverance"

Because I wasn't.
Or at least I didn't feel like I was.

I felt like I was barely keeping it together.
There were days were I was certain that if I didn’t hold on tight enough, everything would unravel.

That I would lose myself completely.

Sure we had good days.
Watching my kids grow has been amazing.

 I regret nothing.

They are my world.

HOWEVER

For every perfect happy moment there was three or four horrible, terrible, mind numbing moments looming right behind it.

And this went on for weeks.
Weeks turned into months.

Every day was exactly like the day before.
Children screaming.
Demanding every ounce of me.
Being torn in two directions, never being able to fully satisfy either one.
Feeling failure in physically being only one person.

Only half of a mother for each child.

I dreaded getting up and I dreaded going to sleep.

Because there was never an end.

No one ever stopped needing.

And honestly?
Who wants to read about that.

What it came down to, is that I didn't want this place to become an endless string of seemingly depressed thoughts.

Because that's not me.
And that wasn't what was happening.

Like I said.
Things are still super hard.
But things are better.
SO much has changed.
There is light.
Every new stage leaves an old challenge behind, and brings with it, one or two more.

I am not unique.
I don't think my feelings are "new".

I have said it once and I will say it again;

Every mother is given her own challenge... mine just happens to be twins.

Anyway.

That is why I stopped.

That is my “excuse”.

I’m hoping to be back more.