Gosh, life sure has gotten in the way of blogging lately. My days are full of choices: Eat or blog? Sleep or blog? Breathe or blog? I'm still alive, so blogging has been the clear loser here.
I've been consumed with all the cancer... yet still, life marches on. Iris is saying things like, "Are you so cute, little kitty? Yes you are!" and "You're my best friend!" and "Is it awesome?" And Ocean is so into Spiderman that it's almost scary, especially because he has no frame of reference for it, and thinks the guy in the suit is Peter Piper.
The new little nugget is just over 16 weeks along, and is starting with the fetal acrobatics, though not as intensely as my other two were at this point. I'm taking that as gospel that I will have one laid-back child. Pray for me. I forget that I'm pregnant most of the time, which is a good thing right now I suppose. Ocean is very serious about naming the baby Socka. We will see about that.
As for me? I'm tired. I don't even have the energy to pretend I'm not. I asked Ocean today if he could play quietly at my feet while I closed my eyes for a minute and he said, "Sure Mommy. Look at this! Did you see that Mom? Look, Mom!" Naps just aren't in the cards right now, and may never be again, I'm realizing.
But none of that really matters too much. The kids, antagonistic as they are to one another, are generally happy. Phil is on the road to health. I am plugging along. And we're doing okay, all of us. So in the grand scheme of grand schemes, I can't really complain.
I hope you're all well. Or, as Iris would say, Awesome.