No, I did not try to climb another mountain and actually fall off the face of it to my demise, never to write again. My absence of words can merely be explained by an everlasting bout of monotony.
Actually, the monotony only recently started. Let me give you an update:
In my hiatus I managed to carry and deliver my third child, a bouncing baby boy, L. He's fabulous, adorable, and serious like his dad. He smells like his own baby-ness and I love him just like my two other rowdy rascals. He reminds me a little bit of his great-grandpa: napping all day, and waking up a little too early in the morning, wondering where the coffee is.
I also started, and quit, a new job. It was a fun little excursion of rebellion from my previous job, to which I will be returning in a few weeks.
The husband got a new job, a M-F 9-5 kind of deal, and therefore I have discovered I am not a morning person, yet all three of my children are.
My hydrangeas survived the heat last summer and blossomed gloriously this year. Somehow one bush has both purple and pink hydrangeas: a real miracle considering those are the best colors. It's living the Hannah Montana life and getting the best of both worlds.
However, I have now slipped into a world where every day melds into the next and I wonder how long my sanity will hold.
But truly, it's the best gift.
The more the days are the same, the easier it is for me to notice the small changes. How L is learning to smile reluctantly, and would rather gaze into my eyes with the cutest furrowed brow you can image. Or how precious Batman can be with the squealing voice of a two-year old. And how somehow Z managed to transform from a baby into a little boy, full of love and care for his little sister and brother. When I'm not worrying about how the day will go, I can sit back and relax and watch how fun it is to be growing up, rather than grown up.
I'm glad I'm still growing up, too.