Postless

Sometimes I just can't think of a thing that would be interesting enough to write about. I look at this blog every day, and I see the same boring post up, and yet I still can't think of something new, exciting or controversial to write about.

Over the weekend Mr 19 came home briefly to watch his friends who are still in high school swim an important meet. He arrived home late on Friday and was gone by noon on Sunday. In that time he did manage to make a big mess of his room, and provide a stress level in me that I haven't seen in quite some time. More on that when I get up the courage to even think about it in my frontal lobe. Right now I'm hoping to just let it simmer in the back of my brain where it doesn't take my breath away and cause my heart to stop beating. (If you know, shhhhhhh! I and no one else wants or needs to know about it! Quiet in your comments! Reveal no secrets! No one else needs or wants the stress.)

We had yet another swim meet with the girls, where they each posted incredible results again: a few first place ribbons, and nothing lower than a fourth. I'm not looking forward to next season when Miss 10 ages up and must once again start at the bottom of the pack. It was so incredibly exciting to see her in the final heat in lane four. (Lane four is for the fastest seed in the event, meaning in that event she had the fastest time for her age group) I don't recall that ever happening to one of my children before.

Hubby and I are spending hours doing some deep cleaning of the house, which means we are taking bags and bags to the trash, and loads of boxes to the school rummage sale. I look through things and wonder why in the world I ever kept them, and then I stumble on a box of things that tug at my heart strings. I discovered a box of 12 month old girls clothing. It was full of adorable dresses, jumpers, pj's and shoes, and all of it made me cry. NO, I most definitely don't want another, but it is such a testament to the passage of time to see those tiny clothes then in the next moment have your 90 pound daughter leaping up for you to hold her as she nearly knocks you over.