Life As It's Happening

It's happened.

I've finally caved.

The friendly suggestions (read: pestering) from family members and friends finally paid off--for them.

I'm here on the World Wide Web (granted, under a pseudonym), which can only mean one thing: hell has frozen over. Or perhaps my frigid, anti-digital-diary heart has finally melted, due to the newborn that's currently lounging (and occasionally startling herself awake with flailing music conductor-like arms) in a swing within my line of sight.

I'm a mother now. And that means I'm allowed--nay, encouraged--to embrace my new verbal (typed?) diarrhea about the daily happenings at our home here in Dallas.

So, here goes. My first deep thought (am I the only one hearing the drumroll right now?):

I'm ordinary. 

Yep. That was the deep thought. It was italicized and in bold in case you missed that it was actually the deep thought, and not some preamble to the really deep thought to follow.

Let me repeat it again, just in case any of you currently reading this (Mom) have unrealistic expectations. I'm ordinary. My life is ordinary. My home is ordinary. Even my new-mother experiences are probably ordinary. And yet, as I researched "happening" quotes to officially break in this blog, it occurred to me (not for the first time in my life) that the extraordinary is found within the ordinary. Or perhaps, in the extraordinary re-telling of the ordinary.

Now, I can't promise extraordinary here. But I can promise some honest accounts of the daily happenings in my household, and to abide by the following guideline when determining what to post and what to censure for my own ego's sake:

"Everything is funny as long as it is happening to someone else." --Will Rogers

P.S. This blog is made possible by the fancy-shmancy new battery in my MacBook Pro that allows it to stay charged longer than twenty minutes at a time without being plugged in.

P.P.S. Was I supposed to abide by some sanitary pacifier timeline before I gave up? Because my newborn (who's now in my lap instead of in her swing) just spit hers under the couch and into questionable dust and floor fuzz. Yet, I had no qualms about just blowing it off and popping that sucker back in her mouth.

Is three-and-a-half weeks too soon for that?

Wait. Don't answer that.