I used to put in this blog all the happy things I didn't want to forget in the slow blur of parenting. I wrote about my children's irresistible emergent language; the way they saw things, so fresh and observant. I wrote about the moments I thought were funny; the things we made, or I made for them. I wrote about the ebb and flow of my feelings about raising a family in a place so many miles from 'home'. I really tried to capture the weight of their bodies in my arms, their small frames, their turn of phrase, the nature of who they might be and the childhood that might be shaping them.
Preschool art projects became kindergarten homework. Empty afternoons filled up with the school run. Tiredness took a bite out of sibling friendships. Squabbles fell upon us like high speed tetris blocks. I couldn't shift them fast enough to fit the matrix. Emotion trebled; 'he made a nasty face', 'he took my train', 'he called me dude' (despite the meaning, the slight is deep when delivered with a first grade snarl). I stopped wanting to record our days together. I stopped wanting to take my camera out. I no longer had the time or inclination to share on a blog the content of our lives. I see an earlier version of myself reading this, the one who took so much pleasure capturing our particular journey. She is wondering what changed. I am wondering too.
I know it is all about attitude. I will endeavour to carve out more time to write, seek out the meaning of things and hand it to you like a delicate chocolate wrapped in tissue paper.
