I'm finding it difficult to blog these days. I vaguely remember this phase with Toby and Brynn, where I seem to be busy a lot and yet don't seem to accomplish anything visible. In the MOGs younger days, he used to ask "What did you do today?" He doesn't ask that anymore. There are a lot of questions he doesn't ask anymore. Wisdom, boys.
I'm trying to be a writer, you know, and write things. I'm working on a couple of different projects now, and seeing how much I can get done between naps (Tristan's, not mine. no sleep for me ever again) and with a baby over my shoulder. Oh, and with a rock band practicing in my basement and preschoolers finding high surfaces to stage-dive from, usually directly into each other.
My mom is here for a couple of months, and she's cooking and cleaning and such, all the time. I'm not sure how or what we'd be eating or wearing if she wasn't here, may she live forever.
So, Tristan is kind of laughing these days, and Brynn is taking ballet, and everyone went sledding in the Traylor's back yard, and we made cookies and such. But the king in the baby swing demands homage, and homage he shall receive.