Blabber

The Man is squeezing in a post-bedtime workout, and the kids are off to dream about coughing and football and getting to wear much beloved Halloween costumes to preschool tomorrow (I guess this is the autumnal equivalent of visions of sugar plum dancing in their heads). And I am sitting here thinking about, well, honestly, nothing in particular except for the fact that I should be writing, and so here I am: writing.

Some of the exciting costumes that will be debuting tomorrow.

It's hard for me not to correct myself and say that I am merely "pretending to write". It makes me think of where that line is between practicing the piano and playing the piano. When do you stop practicing and just play? When do I stop pretending to write and realize that I'm actually writing? I'm not positive. I recognize only that this is good exercise for my mind and heart, that forcing myself to sit down and type something (anything) is healthy for me at a soul level.

Bruiser finds dinosaurs healthy at a soul level.
Also dragons.

So here's what we'll do. I'll sit here with my feet propped up on the coffee table and my window open, and I'll pretend that you're beside me, curled up with a throw pillow on your lap, and I'll tell you the things that I think you may want to know.

Here's Iron Man being artistic at the aforementioned
coffee table.

First, I'm really sorry that all three of the pets are in the room grooming themselves. I realize that it's rude. I didn't know that dogs could chew their nails before Trigger. I wish it was still a thing that I didn't know because loud.  And also, gross.

Trigger's partner in nail chewing.
She may be cuter than he is though...

Second, I apologize for the lack of pumpkins in our home. I realize that, as a basic white female, I am breaking lots of rules by not having a pile of miniature gourds gracing my mantle and at least one very large decorative pumpkin that will be skillfully carved into something amazing before the 31st. The truth is that we've been planning to take the kids to get pumpkins but first we realized that the Man was actually home and so we kind of wanted to take him with us, and then we got side tracked by twenty gazillion other things, and then the kids got sick (see above coughing reference) and now it's the 25th and...you guessed it...no pumpkins. Seriously though: profuse apologies all around.

Fall mantle: no pumpkins.
Will we survive?!
Third, I'm sorry that I can't sit still for longer than ten minutes at a time but Bruiser was convinced that Blythe was still in his room (she wasn't), and then Tiny wanted me to light the candles at the top of the stairs, and then Bruiser felt the need to inform me his throat hurts (yes, that's what happens when you get sick), and now I'm hearing the baby (but I'm going to pretend like she's going back to sleep on her own). This is why my thoughts are all disjointed and out of whack. Also, I had a six year old tell me today that I have too many kids. Which is a distinct possibility, but I like them all so much that I'm not sure which one I should give back.

I especially like this one.
Fourth, here at the home front (important news you are dying to hear!), we are finishing up football season. Tonight was Littles' last game and tomorrow is Tiny's. At the beginning of football season, I wasn't sure we'd survive, but at the end, I'm actually a little sad that it's over. I made football mom friends. I sliced oranges like a boss. My slow cooker and I bonded at a deep level. And it was fun watching the big boys learn and grow and be awesome under someone else's supervision. Do you think they'll give me until Christmas before they start trying to talk me into baseball?

Real men play sports and take care of their baby sister.
Evidently.

Fifth, if I go back and add a few cute pictures of the kids, can I give myself a check mark for today and move on with my life? Especially if I promise to next time actually write something bordering on coherence possibly with a legitimate point? Thanks. Good plan.

Let's go get ice cream now.

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