I have absolutely no idea what to write.

There. I said it.

Lordy knows I have plenty to write about, but there is little relevance for you, my dear readers. And little coherency in my brain.

As a matter of fact, I'm fairly certain those last sentences may or may not make sense.

My life is just me, running from cleaning houses in the morn to Panera in the afternoon and evening on a Saturday. It's me, doing the mommy thing (reading to my babies, laundering mountains upon mountains of clothes, kissing ouchies, making food, cuddling). It's me, going to bed at midnight and waking up at 5, just because the house is continually creaking with its to-dos. It's me, not showering for two days in a row (more or less). It's all very un-glamorous, but hey, life isn't about glamor. It's about seasons that expand, mature, weed out, test... And this is one such season. A season of slapping high-five to my husband as he comes home and I go.

Blech.

I wish real life had spring break :) Or that banks would forgive debt like God did (and does). How much purer this life could be if everyone just extended grace and understanding to everyone, hm?