Step one... try.

I don't know how many times I have said to a child it doesn't hurt to try.... I decided I should try my hand at this blogging thing; I should put myself out there and attempt it. Of course, the day I chose to start it the baby gets the stomach flu. So excuse me if my first attempt seems a bit scattered, I am in shirt number three and on shower two of the day. The only reason I have a moment to do this is because he has been lulled to sleep by the sounds of Sesame Street, blessed am I by you Sesame Street.

I have been playing around with the idea of writing for a long time. I have tried my hand at short stories, novels, even have the occasional witty post on Facebook. The short stories and novels never really panned out because things I call my children seem to need me too often. This is why I have decided blogging maybe my perfect fit, I can get my word vomit out and still have time for bath time.

Vomit... ugh. I have been puked on a lot in my life most people leave that for when they have children, not me. I started the being puked on thing at a young age, I am an old pro. I remember I was about 9 and my little sister abruptly awoke me screaming about something. I ignored her tirade and fell back to sleep, being as though it was the middle of the night and all. The next thing I remember hearing is "ASHLEY! Seriously get up, I puked on you!" Needless to say sprung from my bed, there was no tearing opening the shutters, however there was a moment of pure terror until I realized none the vomit actually had landed on my person... just my blankets. There was also the time the infant puked in my mouth... I won't elaborate anymore as I assume that was enough visual. There have been many other occasions as I have worked in daycares and playing mommy too many kids for years. I am happy to report I have only been puked on three times today.. woot woot.

OK, maybe posting about vomit is not the best way to start this... oh well. I will leave you with a Paisleyism... I will try to share her words of wisdom as they come up. (Paisley is my 8 year old soon to be step daughter, who's amazingly witty comment's constantly put me fits of laughter.)

Paisleyism Number 1...

As we were leaving my parents house one day it was pouring down rain. I noticed a little boy on the corner, he was not wearing shoes or coat, so rhetorically I said where is that boy's parents. From the backseat I hear Paisley answer back, "Well Ashley, he is probably a stray."