So, I’m typing here. This is what I’m supposed to do, right? I think they call it writing a post?

Joking, joking. I didn’t forget what this is all about.

Not entirely, at least.

John went back to work on Wednesday. After an awesome thirty days filled with family time–lazy days, busy days, date nights, family snuggle time every morning, visits with friends and family, vacation in the mountains, a day at Sea World–it was time for “normal” to begin.

The only problem is that we’re not so sure we even know what “normal” is anymore. For the past year, nothing has been normal around here. Merritt was born, a week later John had surgery, a couple weeks later we went to Colorado, right after that was Christmas and within three weeks John was in Iraq. So this whole deal of being a family of four, Daddy at work, Mommy and kiddos at home, dinner on time and all that? All new to us.

But Wednesday was the day. And we were ready. Anxious, in fact, to get started with normal life.

And, as we all well know, normal to ME means–it’s time to get back on the ol’ blog. I had a post all written up in my head. Ready to go. Just needed typing. I was missing my bloggie peeps.

And then I looked at the clock and it was after 10pm.

Um, HELLO? Where did my day go???

(Here is some news that will shock you right outta your seat–to all of you emailers who said, “Um, you seem to write your posts really, REALLY late. Is that a Blogger mistake?” To which I’ve replied that, no, the times are accurate and that I had this unhealthy fear of going to bed alone every night. But guess what? I’ve actually been going to bed before the next day begins now. I know. Crazy. But true.)

So I didn’t write a post Wednesday. I added it to Thursday’s spot in my planner and told myself that I’d write that “Yes, I’m still alive!” post after breakfast with the boys and before I went to the gym in the morning. Getting up early not only makes a person go to bed ridiculously early every night, but they say it helps us get more accomplished.

Well, when the baby woke up before I’d even had time to finish my devotions, I wasn’t so sure on that getting more accomplished bit. The way I see it, it’s more like we just get to experience a little more craziness when we add hours to the day.

Thursday was one of those days I realized half way through that I’d packed way too much into one short span of time. Going out with the boys to the gym, then home for a shower and naps (which didn’t go so well. Or just… didn’t go AT ALL, to be exact), then off to the store with the boys for a big grocery trip (Troy wearing an inside-out Disneyland beanie on his head in 75 degree weather and his Cars sunglasses, Merritt with wet hair and water splashed all over the front of his shirt thanks to spilling the cat’s water dish moments before we walked out the door), then home to have dinner ready on time before heading to church to be in the nursery by 6:40pm, combined with the everyday life stuff…well, let’s just say the post didn’t get written.

And now, here we are. It’s Friday night. The clock says it’s after 10pm.

Today I spent the morning at a nearby lake with a friend and her little ones, cleaned half of the house and did the last of the zillion loads of laundry calling my name, thought for a few minutes that my two year old had disappeared (long enough to FREAK ME OUT and have me running around outside screaming his name so loud that the neighbors came out to help me–oh, the things that child has put me through already…), ran a couple errands once John came home, made a delish supper (with a recipe from my new favorite site on earth–more on that later)…

…and, yes-indeedy, wrote a blog post.

Accomplishments, I tell ya.

But you want to know the thought that hit me today?

Life is just crazy. Whether a hubby’s far away, or whether he’s right here beside me. Things just tend to border on insane more often than not around here.

And I think I kinda like it that way.

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