I just can't continue on with it. Why? Because as I sit here, dinner on the stove, I am listening to Miles Davis and his more dulcet jazz, while the kids (and I mean all three!) are miraculously playing quietly amongst themselves. The whole thing feels so cultured. So refined. I feel underdressed in my grey zipup hoodie and jeans. I should be in a black evening gown. Candles should be lit. This should all be taking place in a ritzy penthouse apartment in New York. I should look more like a smoky eyed film noir bombshell.
The whole of today has been so exceptionally mellow! A complete turnaround from the past few weeks. I simply cannot bring myself to complain about anything today. (which is akin to having a deaf mute suddenly strike up a chatty conversation)
It's just been that spectacular. Nothing extraordinary, just beautiful and blissful.
... and in the time it took to load the pictures... the scene degenerated to the girls bothering the baby to tears, some moderate scolding, dinner is looking somewhat... blah. (want the recipe? Add one box penne to one jar alfredo sauce. Mix in broccoli and chopped ham. I know- culinary genius)
And I realize just how far away from the quiet New York penthouse (with chef and live in nanny) life I truly am. Oh, screaming children; Save me. (and eat all your veggies)