It begins...

I think I've been blogging in my head for well over a year now (especially after deciding I was thoroughly addicted to reading my cousin's, I check it every night, that and woot.com). But I never started it because as much as I project myself as a confident person, I'm rather self-conscious about this idea. Blogging is much like a journal, valuable for recording experiences and thoughts but often personal. I also follow my brother and sister (in-law)'s blog. The two are very different. My cousin (I avoid use of names on the internet because I'm kind of paranoid, need time to evaluate the privacy settings) blogs about wonderfully random thoughts and experiences. My sister's is sharing their day-to-day (ish) experiences. Most probably find the latter style more valuable because it allows us to share in the life of someone we don't see very often. But the first delves more into their random thoughts and the messages that they send into the great void of the world. Some may find it silly but I rather like it...

So today begins my blog. (but I can barely keep up with a personal journal so we shall see how we do here.) by the way, does anyone actually read all of the terms and agreements? I get so bored by the third paragraph that my eyes start to cross and I skim to the end, check the little box and instantly can't recall anything of what I just read.

So from now on, I'll "blog" as if I'm already in the middle of long and fascinating account of those random thoughts as well as the daily experiences. As if you already know that I have been blessed with a blissfully happy life. You would know that the man I married is amazing. I love to be his cheerleader and continually awe at how good he is to me and for me. He is brilliant, gorgeous, sweet, thoughtful and a wonderful father. You would also know about my two beautiful daughters, and what a miracle and a gift they are for me. How my two-and-a-half year old is spunky and curious, with endless energy and curls that would make Shirley Temple jealous. She's my beautiful butterfly, fun, happy and social with her boundless energy taking her from place to place. And how my little just-barely-one year old is delicate and gentle, with an impish streak and stubbornness that you would never suspect from such a porcelain doll beauty. She's my little ladybug, sweet and stunning but more content to cuddle and observe, moving more carefully and deliberately than the flitting butterfly but equally precious. I live in a beautiful home (where I still walk down the halls marveling that I really do get to live here), in an incredibly friendly neighborhood, in a breathtakingly beautiful valley (currently surrounded by majestic mountains covered in rich red and orange leaves). I had a short but invaluable career as a high school history teacher, a place where I felt I made a difference and I knew how to make history rich and alive to students. I got to work with teenagers, a generation that I am drawn to because I can feel their energy and eagerness to experience life and test their independence. And you would know that while I loved my teaching experiences, I believe that for me now, motherhood is the hardest and most fulfilling thing that I feel I could be doing with my life.

...My "writer's voice" is showing up. Most of us have one. Where we tend to get philosophical, lofty or dramatic. So here's what I really meant to say: I have a good life.