My blog; Through the years

 This weekend we set our clocks back one hour.  That time change always messes with my head for a few days and last night it was cold so I crawled into bed early.  I am sick of all the election news but because of everything going on right now with the pandemic and the election I've had a hard time settling my mind enough to concentrate on a good book so I grabbed my 2009 blog book.  2009 was the first year I started blogging.  Nick just happened to settle in with me and I ended up reading him several blog entries.  He was 3 when I started and Jay was 7. How time changes.  We laughed together over several stories.  Those boys were always up to something.  Back then my blog was filled with their shenanigans.  I was a typical boy mom who was trying to juggle it all; trying to be a good mom, a decent wife (ha) and a full time worker with a commute. None of it was easy but I remember being told many times from older parents who were no longer in the trenches that I would survive and I have. Nick asked me last night how my blog today differs from my blog 11 years ago. I thought that question was really intuitive. I believe my blog today is more reflective of who Amy is. Not Amy as a mom, not Amy as a wife, just me. It's probably because I have time to be more reflective of who I am and where I've been and how those experiences have shaped me. What hasn't changed is the love I have for my boys. I certainly have made mistakes along the way but I have always been pretty enamored with them. I have enjoyed every stage of parenting - even the teenage years.  In fact the teenage years are when I've really got to see them develop into the men that with God's help we've built them into.  We had a saying in our house: You raise girls, you build boys.  Back in 2009 and beyond when I was ready to lose my mind over their behavior my mom would remind me the boys were under construction! My stories have morphed from the trenches of parenting into the mess of menopause. I like to think that even in all the mess, it's a testament to a life lived well.