The saga begins

So here it is, the long awaited first installment of my blog.  Let me preface my remarks by mentioning that this is not my idea, in fact one could almost describe me as a hostile witness.  While it would be unfair to say I was forced, it would be apt to say I was compelled, by a few misguided souls to write (what will later be described as strange or perhaps even sinister) about my life. I should also warn any potential readers that this blog will never contain cute stories, recepies for cookies, or photos of cats wearing clothes.  If that is the kind of thing you are looking for, I can probably provide some links for you.  And while we are talking about blogs and their owners, can I just mention what an incredibly cool page I have?  This is not as self serving as it sounds, I  had my close friend create it for me, she is a wizard and I am pretty much Amish...which is why I am feeling inconceivable trepidation about this blog.  But I digress;best get used to that.  I really don't know where to begin, at the beginning seems as likely a place as any but it is for that precise reason, that I doubt very much that I will start there. The end is anti climactic, and more difficult to describe. So that leaves us all here in the middle. One of my babies is leaving for university, she is 17 and i am not.  I am so proud of her, she has shown me courage and grace, she was my first new heart beat, my first angry cries at the injustice of being pulled from her warm safe watery world into this this one. She was my first soft breaths against my neck while I rocked her, first smile, and who knew that two teeth could be so cute?  She has always been in a hurry, why walk when you can run?  And now is no different, I am so excited for her and so sad for me,those little feet are still running, but now I won't be right there jogging to keep up, or scooping her into my arms, kissing away her pain.  I will be on the other end of the phone listening, on my knees pleading, or in my truck driving 12 hours whenever she needs me.  From this awkward vantage point I find it difficult to be as flippant about my life as I have become comfortable with, and the emotions a little too raw to really be all that amusing.  So on a lighter note, when I was 4 I got my head slammed in the second story window. I called for help but my voice was going outside, combined with the fact that the window was probably crushing my windpipe against the sill, so nobody heard me. I was pretty sure that I was going to die, and being the sort of kid that I was I considered my demise and knew that it was not a very glamorous way to go. Some how I was able to get my hands at an angle that allowed me to slide the window open and free myself.  And that is pretty much life. Something bad happens and then something good happens. Remind me to tell you about the time my little boy took a severed deer's leg for show and tell...