I've been thinking a lot about writing lately. I enjoy writing, and I want to be better about doing it regularly, mainly just so I have this to look back on and remember, in greater detail, my life at this point. These babies are growing too fast, and doing too many things, saying funny things, observing the world around them so astutely...I need to remember this all.
And now that Oliver has made his entrance and things are settling into something of a routine again, I think I may have the time and energy for it again. We'll see :)
Today I was reminded of writing while making breakfast: Danny and Isaac were in watching their ritual Sunday morning cartoons on PBS (the HD antennae wasn't working, alas, so no Thomas this morning; they settled for Dinosaur Train) and Oliver was snuggled up in the Moby with me. I've been pretty lazy with breakfast since Oliver's birth, so I wanted to do pancakes this morning. Danny requested apple pancakes and Isaac helped me make them.
Everything was just so perfect...Isaac helped me so well and Danny was content playing in the living room, so there was no fighting; Oliver was happy and asleep and warm; my coffee was perfect, and with eggnog to boot; I had made bacon wrapped persimmons as an appetizer, one of my fave things; and our pancakes were delicious (sour cream for half the milk, laced with cinnamon, topped with maple syrup); and the late fall sun was peeking out through the clouds, warming up the kitchen so nicely. It was wonderful. It's what makes me happiest and I absolutely, positively, never-ever want to forget it.