I should be sleeping.

I should be. Because I know beginning to write a post right now, at quarter to twelve, will bite me in the morning. When I don't want to get up and I'm trying to convince Troy that I got up with Claire yesterday (hehe, the boys are now on their own in the am!). To be fair he's more than generous with letting me sleep in. But I feel guilty when my exhaustion is self-induced. I've said it before, being a creative-type nightowl does not mesh well with motherhood.

But I've had a thought that just has to be blogged, or it will go the way of so many blog topics of mine. Right out the window. I've been meaning to sit and write on a couple things for over a week, and now I can't remember where I was going with those ideas.

What I was thinking, is that I'm wondering how you all feel about a real life tangible journal? I have this beautiful momma journal I've kept for quite a few years now, I started it when Thane was a year and a half. It's a very specific journal. I realized at one point that I would eventually forget the things that seemed huge to me once. The tiny, seemingly trivial daily challenges and delights of raising my babies that encompassed my life at one stage. I wrote in the front, "I want to keep a mother's diary just to remember all the things my life revolves around so much, that I might forget someday. I want to remember all these special new things and the sweet little way of looking at the world."

I'm not a daily journaler, as you probably could have guessed from my random blog post frequency. I would journal sometimes a month apart, sometimes six months. But lately, it's been a VERY long time since I've wrote in my momma journal. Whenever I notice the journal out of the corner of my eye, sitting by it's lonesome on the bookshelf, I feel a twang of guilt. And then it hit me tonight when I was updating my blog profile, I haven't written for as long as I've been blogging! My blog has replaced my journal!

Is this okay? Do I only have enough creative writing juice in me to sustain one outlet? Or is it that I only have enough time to squeeze in that one writing outlet? Either way, I'm not sure I like this idea. It resolves my guilt about Claire being the stereotypical third child who is completely unrecorded. She is very much recorded here, in my post archives. But is this the same? No one will ever stumble upon my blog decades after my death and cuddle up with it and discover the life of their grandmother when she was their age, meeting me and my children through it's pages, or will I reread my own blogs when I am old and my kids are having my grandbabies? Am I completely just romanticizing the qualities of a book?