The monkey is singing in the backseat while her brother watches.

“It’s easy to doooo . . . It’s not every dayyyyy . . . chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp . . . It’s easy to doooo . . . It’s not every dayyyyy . . . chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp . . .”

It’s been one of those days . . . grey and drizzly outside; half of the brilliantly colored autumn leaves have already fallen, leaving the ones left on the trees looking a bit sad and lonely; no particular motivation to get out of the house.  So we putter, and I’m working on craft projects and V is organizing and unpacking boxes (still, despite the fact that we moved in almost a year ago), and the babes are playing and the day just feels . . . lovely, somehow, despite the lack of any huge projects getting finished or us even getting out of our pajamas.

Tomorrow there is a soccer game to watch at a friend’s house, and grocery shopping, and maybe a hardware store run if we’re feeling ambitious.  But today I’ll settle for clean dishes, and clean laundry, and a pile of craft prep sitting on the countertop egging me on.  And a blog post completed before 9pm.

[Edited to add: And the media room!  One of V's projects was to set up and de-clutter the electronics, and it is a thing of beauty . . . all clean tabletop and zip-tied electrical cords and right angles. Joy!]

Another day, another half-assed attempt to post before midnight so as to meet my deadline.  THIS is why I’ve never managed to keep a journal for any significant length of time, despite dozens of attempts.

But who cares, when you have THIS sitting on your kitchen counter?  Ahhhh, Frost doughnuts, I love you so . . .

Frost doughnut's Smokey Maple Bacon Bar

Salted caramel

Great green goddess, I am TIRED. Bone-deep, bleary-eyed, can-barely-move tired. So tired that I’m writing this post on my phone not because it is easier or more convenient to type and edit (it’s not), but because the effort of removing the laptop from its bag in the other room sounds too difficult. I sit in a rocking chair, sleeping babe in lap, immobilized by my own fatigue.

Part of it is that the little monkey is teething; feverish and grumpy over the last two days, he has been stuck to me like glue and needing a great deal of rocking and walking to keep him content. We also spent most of today and yesterday at a playspace full of kids, AND I was working.

Gah. Can’t even write any more. Must sleep, while the monkeys are out. (*yawn*)

Because the first post from today was REALLY meant to be a post from yesterday, see?

Today was . . . interesting.  Last night the big monkey did a sleepover at Grandma’s house downstairs (and I use the term “sleepover” verrrrrry loosely, because not much sleeping got done), and today she was T.I.R.E.D.  Which led to some . . . interesting meltdowns, let me tell you.  There was the morning meltdown (she was going to go out to breakfast with Grandma, but then decided she would miss me if she wasn’t with me, but THEN decided that she would really rather go with Grandma to breakfast instead of to the playspace to play with friends . . . after we had all already left the house in separate cars), the late morning meltdown (because her friend tried to take her napkin), and half a dozen other meltdowns before we managed to make it home for a nap.  A nap which she adamantly protested; a nap which she vehemently denied needing.  A nap which, once she fell asleep (about 30 seconds after her head hit the pillow), lasted for a good two hours.

Yeah.  Overtired kiddos.  Tons o’ fun.

Add to that the fact that the little monkey seems to be trying to get sick again (the low-grade temp that I thought was teething related seems to be, SURPRISE, the start of another illness.  Lucky us!), and you’ve got one heck of a frustrating, tiring day.

Thankfully, we had the company of good friends to get us through the first half of the day, and the loan of a new and fabulous baby carrier to help with the little monkey’s desire to be constantly attached to my body.  And a nice stiff cocktail at the end of it, which I am now enjoying as the babe sleeps on my back and the big girl is being lovingly soothed to sleep by her dad.

We survived.  Tomorrow is another day.  And hopefully, another post.

Awesome.  Only three days into NaBloPoMo, and I already missed a day.  In my defense, I was THINKING about a blog post all day; I just didn’t quite make it.  So much running around all day that I barely had time to sit in front of the computer, and then in the evening we got to go see the brilliant, the amazing, the incomparable JOHN CLEESE perform live! I know.  How cool is that? There’s nothing like hearing a master craftsman talk about their trade, and hearing Mr. Cleese regale us with stories for a solid couple of hours was nothing short of amazing.  Not only the jokes (of which there were many), but the attention to detail in the honing and polishing of his work.  We got to learn some excellent behind-the-scenes stuff about both Python and Fawlty Towers, and at the end of the night the man actually took questions from the audience.

And now, since I have to dash out the door in just moments, I will leave you (my readership of 3 people) with a chuckle or two.

Isn’t he grand?

I am percolating, letting thoughts and ideas bubble through me, waiting patiently for them to bear fruit.  Thoughts on parenting (big monkey’s sleep issues, philosophies of education, the question of further family expansion), inspiration and action for the various volunteer pursuits I engage in, plans for my fledgling business.  Trying to sit with it and let it grow–you can’t force revelations, right?

I am also marinating in the joy that is my day-to-day life.  Big monkey’s hilarious stories & songs that she comes up with all day long; little monkey’s grins & giggles and wet, sloppy kisses.  Work which, though unpaid, challenges and energizes me in my quest to better serve the women of my community.  New friends, old friends, friends returned from far away.

This is a bit of a cheater post–lots of words, not much said.  But I’m working on it . . . more to come.  Always more to come.

A few days ago a friend of mine on Facebook mentioned that she was planning on doing NaNoWriMo.  I remembered that there is a blogging equivalent, and went to look it up–but, getting the name of it wrong, I found myself on the page for NaBloWRIMo.  Seeing that the event was about to end for the year, I figured I had missed my chance to participate for this year and settled back to let my blog wither, neglected, for awhile longer.

Imagine my surprise to find, this morning, a mention in another friend’s Facebook page of NaBloPOMo.  Hooray, a second chance to challenge myself to write daily!  And since I know someone else who will be participating, I’ll have added motivation.  Which is good, because my blog has become a saaaad little monument to my lack of time to devote to writing.  Or even posting photos.  Which is quite a sad commentary, actually, because my kids are damned cute.

Case in point: Ilze just wandered into the living room with a doll in hand, asking if her brother was up yet.  I shook my head, and she grinned and went about trying to dress the doll.

Me: Can I have a kiss?

Ilze: In a sec, mama.

(after a moment she turns, brow furrowed in thought)

Ilze: Actually, I would say . . . nine seconds.

Me: Okay (turning away, trying not to laugh)

3 moms working in the kitchen

9 kids playing underfoot

14 batches of jam

4 different kinds of fruit

35 jars full of deliciousness!

After a bathroom break, after washing & drying hands, comes reading time: currently four poems from Shel Silverstein’s “A Light in the Attic”, which will segue nicely into “Where the Sidewalk Ends”. And after the reading, the stalling . . .

“Could you give me a bunch of kisses? Like a hundred.”

I pause, momentarily weighing the options–a hundred kisses and a brief stall in the naptime routine, or the energy required to turn down her request. [Easy decision. Plus, she is extremely kissable.] Decision made, I pepper her face with kisses while she giggles, delighted. After I finish, I plant one on her nose and smile into her beaming face.

“There. A hundred.”

There’s that mischievous glint in her eye, the one I know means this is not over.

“No, I meant HUNDREDS of kisses.”

Stall tactics, I know. But so cute . . .