These are the days of our lives

There should be a blog post here. Something witty or heartbreaking or, even, just tired prose. But, I have nothing. A long list of things I didn't get to do this weekend, a deep well of sadness that the weekend is over and a very weird feeling of not wanting to be a working mom or a stay-at-home mom or, even, a work-at-home mom anymore.

I just am.

I feel like a bug hitting the windshield of an 18-wheeler -- caught off guard with the full impact of this is what life is for mothers today.

The question remains: How will blogging fit into this new life of ours?

I wish I knew the answer. I'm pleading for the energy, the material and the time. This is the only thing I have and I want to keep it, even if everything else is a mess.

I'm sorry for not reading your blogs, or even if I have read your posts, I haven't commented. I'm sorry for being absent. For being melodramatic. For being sad. For being angry. For taking at least one coffee break each day at work and wasting money on take-out lunches because anything -- ANYTHING -- is better than peanut butter and jelly or grilled cheese right now.

To change all of this, I'm going to say this: Life is getting easier. And I still have a lot to say. I just don't know when and how I'll get to say it.

Guest Post from Daddy Dan

I'm three days into my week with the girls. Here's what I've learned so far:

They are a little more overwhelmed by new environments than I might have thought. Liana's clingyness is especially surprising: She is so independent and adventurous around the house. We went to gymnastics Monday, and they were both stuck to my legs. Same thing at our new pre-school. Now, in both places, they did warm up after a few minutes. But the world is still a big - and sometimes scary - place. It's easy to forget that seeing them in their element at home.

Meals are the most stressful times of the day. They say they're hungry and then don't eat. They chew things up and then spit them out, and they don't always have a clear reason. They love to bang silverware and make messes. Exhibit A: The Working Mom made a special effort to whip up some chicken salad for chicken salad sandwiches at lunch. They were hungry. I brought out the sandwiches. And Liana very patiently took off every last bit of chicken salad and ate only the bread. Question for my mom: Was I like this at 2? Oh, never mind. I know the answer.

All the energy it takes to keep up with them, all the stress - it's worth it for the one or two moments each day:

Hearing them tell the story of their day to Mom when she comes home from work: "We saw cows. In the barn. Go milking. Cow peed. One cow pooped."

Liana crying from a scraped knee on her way to the car. Jadyn, from her car seat, unprompted, reaching out to hold her sister's hand while Liana got her knee cleaned and bandaged.

Seeing them with other kids and realizing they move pretty well on their own and make decisions on their own. In not quite three years, they have become little people. Not perfect by any stretch, but the most beautiful people I could ever imagine.

Any dads out there have a story to share about that first solo week at home with the kids?