I have been sitting down to blog tonight for about six minutes.
I have been interrupted 842 times. Approximately. Not by the babies who don't know better, but by the older kids who are supposed to be able to clean the kitchen without my help. Currently even the dog is invading my space, staring at the keyboard. Clem, if you can read this - GET OFF MY FOOT.
So far I have started all of the following posts.
A love story starring Tayte.
A questioning post about why people feel the need to hug everyone so much these days.
A post about the number 1 most common complaint among married men in the U.S.
My race schedule for the season.
One seeking your opinion on electric scooters.
An explanation of why Saige is the "Baby Whisperer"
My guilty pleasure.
(Just got interrupted again by the way.)
What was I trying to say?
Oh yeah. I have started many posts. Which one would you like me to finish?
(And do you think they would understand if I started barging in on them to ask dumb questions (like, "should I put the milk in the fridge?") while they were playing x-box, or listening to their ipod, or playing with friends, or trying to go to the bathroom?)