If blogging were tweeting, I’d be much better at it.
Twitter, designed to allow users to speak their minds in bursts of 140 characters or fewer, has become easier for me to use. I don’t feel trapped by the pressure to write in concise, well-formed sentences and paragraphs. I don’t feel the time crunch to weave all my thoughts together into one pleasant-to-read entry.
This former journalist has officially put communication priorities on the back burner.
Instead of writing well, I’m trying to live well. I’m trying to play well, to love well, to clean, eat, cook and sleep well.
I’ve always been one of those people – the ones who get frustrated and retreat when they can’t do something well enough. Lately, I’ve retreated from writing because I’ve had to face the music, grow up and come to terms with life. Sometimes our own standards mean precisely nothing. Sometimes Good Enough for others just has to be good enough for us, too.
By “us,” I mean the other self-loathing overachievers out there. I know I’m not alone.
In the spirit of writing poorly, if blogging were tweeting, I’d tell you these things about my day:
- No fever! And it doesn’t hurt to swallow! HALLELUJAH!
- It would have been nice to eye-poke the lady who said she felt sorry for me because I have triplets.
- Instead, I asked her why and gave her further, “But they’re soooo cuuuuute!” exclamations the cold shoulder. I’m trying to set a good example. Or something.
- I need to figure out how to make yarn pom poms that won’t be pulled apart by smart babies. It’s for Halloween, not Toddlers in Tiaras.
- No, naked triplets chasing each other while squealing and giggling aren’t at all adorable. NOT AT ALL.
- Neither are triplets in footed jammies who tackle each other across pillows while squealing and giggling.
- My trio are going through a weird phase.
- They want to breastfeed on their tummies. No, while sitting up. No, in the cradle hold. No, back to side-lying.
- My undies are slipping down, my nursing tank is riding up, my hair is poofy, and I just stepped in something sticky. And something slimy.
- Hot mess, table for 1.
This is where I drop the microphone and walk off-stage.
Snort. Love it. Well. Except for the stepping in stuff. I’m assuming you took care of that before you wrote this.
Of course I did. I clean those floors. I’m not about to track slimy and sticky footprints around all willy-nilly like!
Please explain to me how they can BF on their tummy…I’m drawing a blank!
They’re weirdos, and they’ve all started doing it separately with no watching-and-learning. Unless they can actually communicate, which is freaky to think about.
ANYWAY.
For 1-on-1 BFing, I always start with the side-lying position. I can’t turn it down. After a few minutes, they all flip their bodies while still latched, and I adjust by turning a little so they continue to nurse while lying on their tummies while facing me. It doesn’t last long, and they usually end up with their heads propped on my arm while on their tummies.
Weirdos, I tell ya.
Your little ones sound so adorable. The whole tackling each other thing sounds cute even though you say it isn’t.
I love the short bursts of information “Twitter-style” that you provided!
This is awesome! I will take Jenny words any way I can get them!
bahahahahaha this is why we are friends.
I love this. Because this is how my brain thinks anyway when I’m chasing kids.
Awesome! I often feel the same way – sometimes I’d rather just dump one-liners out of my head onto the blog than actually “write”.
I’ve missed chatting with you, so even these short bursts fill my heart with glee. Wish I could share in your days.
I love the format! I’ve taken to writing bulletted emails – it must be a motherhood thing.
You make me laugh and cry. You make me proud.
I couldn’t agree more. I started tweeting because I had no one to talk to while watching TV. It stemmed from there. My thoughts are now formed in short bursts.
I’m sorry 3 naked babies aren’t adorable. If my daughter wouldn’t potty all over the place I’d leave her nakey nakey all the time. Her booty is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
Oops. I left off my sarcasm font – both squealing/giggling baby references were, in fact, about three adorable babies being as adorable as they get.