Mission Impossible?
I hope you are not too disappointed in me. I am simply not finding the time to sit down and write about all of the tantrums and growth spurts that are happening around here. To borrow a phrase, I keep 'waiting to exhale.' Before we had our third baby, it seemed that I had ample time for breaths in and out, for writing, and for reading the most ridiculous variety of novels you can imagine. But here I find myself, occasionally relaxing, but knowing that while I laze, I am letting something slide. While I was sipping tea and composing that email in which I reminisced about my 11th grade prom dress, my two year old was pulling all of the shoes out of my closet and filling them with fistfuls of cat food. It can also be argued that my time would have been better spent changing the sheets after some child ate a sleeve of crackers (apparently using half of them to make confetti) in my bed. If I were to only write or relax when there was nothing more ...