My Little Blahg

I have not been blogging daily lately, and I'll tell you why... My husband wants me to spend more time with him when he gets home from work, and I guess that's a reasonable request. At first David didn't think that my "little blahg," (as he calls it) was a viable hobby or activity. He would harangue me about it quite frequently. But then he finally read some of it and realized that he liked it. He realizes that I do this for my kids to read someday, and for me to remember the goings on in the Whitt home. So often we forget the cute, little things. Or the insane moments of chaos we call life. I also write my "little blahg" because I want to get my writing legs up and walking again. It will probably takes years of progress. And I write my "little blahg" too so that people like my Mother, who live far away, can feel connected to me and her grandchildren. These are the things that are important.

So David and I have come to a compromise. I will not ignore him when he walks in the door after work while I am fervently composing my "little blahg." I will be sweet and heat up his dinner and have conversation with him about his long day. I do owe him that, and I do want to do that because I love him. And, in turn, David has promised me that he won't belittle and make fun of my "little blahg" again.

It was funny because while in Maine, around a serene campfire late in the night while David was alone in his thoughts watching the sparks fly and listening to the fire crack, he heard someone call out in the distance across the campground. The voice with a heavy Boston accent said, "Hey Bahb!! Did you finish your blahg?" See? I'm not the only one who has a "little blahg...."