I have been pondering this in my mind.  I want to blog.  I love my blog.  I miss blogging.  I still think in blog posts.  I take random pictures of stuff to post on my blog.

See.  Totally random picture of a half knit sock that is now part of a fully knit pair of socks.  I take pictures for my blog.

I just never actually manage to sit down and actually do the blogging part of having a blog.

Which kinda defeats the purpose.

I've considered officially ending my blog.  After all, if I called it quits for good then I could let go of the guilt I carry over all the unblogged things.  The guilt, it weighs me down.  Letting go of those things that do not bring us joy, and weigh us down is a beautiful thing.  Who doesn't feel the need to simplify their lives and let go of the needless baggage?  Letting go of that which is destructive to us can only be a good thing.  And unearned guilt is a destructive thing.  I think my guilt over my blog is unearned and unnecessary.  By  not blogging am I harming anyone?  Am I doing anything wrong?  Do I really have anything to feel guilty about?  I've decided the answer to those questions is no.  So my guilt is indeed unearned and destructive.  But my blog does bring me joy.  I don't want to throw out the entire enterprise because one cog doesn't work.

But the non-working cog is me.

It isn't a camera issue, or a computer issue, or a lack of access to the internet issue.

It is me.

What is wrong with me?

I've been turning this over and over in my mind.  What is wrong with me?  And I'm sure my siblings could write novels on the subject.  Oh the novels my siblings and some of my closer friends could write on all the things that are wrong with me.  But in this one tiny little instance I've decided the fault does not lie with me.  Instead the fault lies here.

Yup.  It is all their fault.

I no longer blog because of these sweet little demons children (seriously, how cute are they.  sometimes their  cuteness makes me hurt).  These devious creative minds and a little something I think of as the "Death of Naptime" are the reason I never blog.

Gone are the days where I had two, sometimes three, uninterrupted hours in the afternoon to amuse myself.  Hours where I needed to be quiet so I couldn't do productive things like vacuum.  Hours where I had to be at home, so I couldn't do productive things like run errands.  Quiet quiet blissful hours where I could just HEAR MY OWN THOUGHTS.  Many of which I wrote on this blog.

I never realized what a luxury it was to hear my own thoughts.

Now my four demons children  are all done with the napping phase of life.  I wish I had known that Sweet Pea's last nap was going to be "THE LAST NAP EVER."  I would have had mourning services for it, where we all could gather together and mourn "The Death of Naptime."  But Death never announces its intentions.  It never RSVP's or gives you a courtesy call to tell you it will be dropping by in ten minutes.  It sneaks up on you, and steals the things you hold most dear.

Oh Naptime.

Like all mourners, I didn't realize what you meant to me until it was too late.

With no naptime my days are filled with constant activity, and no structured down time for Mommy.  I can clean at any moment.  I can be your personal chauffeur with no restrictions of schedule.  They are always awake to play with, to read to, to make things with.  My feet hit the ground running, and I don't stop until I fall in bed at night.  And sometimes my day still doesn't end there.  The joys of Motherhood and all that.  I'm sure someday I will be writing a morose blog post about the "Death of the Midnight Visitor at my Bedside."  But not today.  Today I do not appreciate the Midnight Visitor at my Bedside.  I'm sure that is another thing that can only be loved in fuzzy cherished memories that are only vaguely reminiscent of the reality.  But I digress.

Where was I anyways?

I might have had a point when I started, but it now eludes me.

Short answer:  no naps = no blogging.

I'm going to have to find a new time to blog.  I can't get up any earlier if I wanted to.  Pork Chop has me getting up at 5:30 to go running with her.  Six months of colic was not enough torture, now the girl makes me run.  Sometimes she comes precariously close to being not awesome.

I could blog after the children go to bed, but honestly, after getting up at 5:30 in the morning to go running, I am simply out of brain cells by 9:00 at night.  I'm lucky I manage to sit on the couch without drooling on myself.  Night blogging isn't going to happen.

I wonder if there is a way to set aside some time from like 1 to 3 in the afternoon.  We could call it "Mommy Time."  And the kids could just do whatever the heck they wanted too as long as their screams didn't disturb Mommy.  Two hours every day to do what ever they wanted, as long as they leave me along and do whatever it is they want to do quietly.

Kinda like nap time used to be.

This just might work.

Until CPS comes to take my children because they've been quietly setting things on fire.

Think of all the blogging time I'll have after CPS takes my kids.

And the blog fodder I'll have telling tales of my supervised visitation.

Yup, this just might work.