I'd forgotten how hard it is to stay motivated to write daily when all I want to do is Go To Sleep. With two kids now, it seems doubly hard. Seriously, I'm having a hard time not saying something like, "You're short and make a lot of noise. Goodnight."
It doesn't help that Pandora (which is a website that plays music, and I like to turn it on while I'm trying to write) is playing entirely random, distracting selections. Right now I'm listening to a rapping violin duet. All I want to do is sit here and stare at the screen and try to figure out what the hell is going on with this song (there's a girl -- I think it's a girl? -- in the background harmonizing and these two dudes...well...playing violins while jamming about...
Well, hell. It's now two minutes later. I don't know what the end of that thought was. THE RAPPING VIOLINS BROKE ME.
I have to go to bed if you want to hold out any hope of me not dropping you in a toilet tomorrow.
We took the boys on the epic trek it now requires to visit a bookstore today. I needed a 2013 calendar like whoa (I usually have, like, five calendars by the beginning of a year and this time around I had zero -- it nearly made me catatonic) and Mike needed pants, because Mike always needs pants, and Charlie likes to play with train table at the bookstore.
So we get there and Mike goes off in search of pants (not in the bookstore, he's a little more together than that; it was in a larger mall) and Henry dive-bombed to the ground to crawl over and chew on the entire Eric Carle section and Charlie, of course, went for the train table. Except story hour had just wrapped up and there were six hundred kids playing trains. So he stood back a minute, then looked up at the surrounding grown ups with a frown and said loudly, "But where are the trains for me?"
Seriously, I'm proud of him. He didn't have a meltdown. He didn't take someone's train and clock them with it. He sighed and wandered off to find a dragon to snuggle and a Little Blue Truck to read. And Henry climbed a girl's leg to lick her face.
At least we've got one going in the right direction.
After dinner, we (Charlie and I -- Mike was off trying to hogtie Henry into a much needed nap) decided we needed cookies. I made that peanut butter kind that you put a Hershey Kiss on top and I wasn't really sure how they were going to work out, because this was my first time doing them and because Charlie's not exactly a conscientious sous chef (measuring is overrated in his kitchen). Turns out, they're pretty stinking easy and even a 3-year-old can't mess them up. Keeping this recipe FOREVER.