I saw a lady with triplets yesterday. Triplets. Like the piano teacher's patient instructions...trip-o-let, trip-o-let, three beats, Ms. Moore, three beats!
Right now my kid is sitting underneath my stool, happily covered in Chocolate Chex in his pajamas. It's 11 a.m. I know, I know. We wake up late, okay? Besides, he's teething, and he's allowed to eat whatever he wants to eat. So go away!
Oh, you came here. Right. I knew that.
I'm not super-woman, and I certainly don't have triplets. Yay. I can barely keep Isaac and I happy, clean (sometimes) and fed. Really, the last one is most important. Or being happy. Being clean makes me happy.
I'm just babbling here.
Our A/C is out again. Maybe the heat is getting to me. You think?
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If I told you that all made sense to this fellow sleep-deprived and sick mommy, would it make you feel better?
...Didn't think so.
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