I made a vow to write everyday for 40 days.  On day 10, I forgot.

I FORGOT.

Nothing fancy.  Nothing tragic.  I simply FORGOT.

Nick told me to let it go and keep writing, “the point,” he said, “is redemption.”

No.  The point is to write everyday and I FORGOT.

What happened that day, I questioned myself in my head.

I woke up, went to work.  Had a meeting.  Worked, took care of Isaiah, babysitter canceled.  Scrambled to find a sitter because we had tickets to the Xavier game downtown.  And NCAA tickets aren’t something you turn your back on.  Out of town NCAA game goers came over.  Drove downtown, witnessed one of the sorriest performances every by my beloved Musketeers, drove home.  Thanked my sister 9238 times for watching Isaiah and then comforted a teething baby from 12am – 2am.  Wished Nick a happy birthday and fell into an exhausted sleep.

One of the things about getting older, I’ve found, is going a little easier on yourself when you fail.  I had a dream to writer 40 for 40 and I didn’t even make it to 10.

But, I’m writing now.

I fell off and I’m getting right back up.

That’s what writers do.  And that’s certainly what mothers do.

So, I do, too.