On a cloudless sunny morning, cool breezes gently wave the morning glories to greet me. 
The back of my sweater is finally complete. 1 1/2 inches of sleeves down, 10 1/2 inches to go. (I am thrilled to have gotten the suggestion to knit both sleeves on the same needle at the same time.) I have come to peace with the sweater's desire to adorn my sister's second child, not her first. (No, I don't have any news of a child on the way.)
I brew a steamy cup of joe and sit down to read my Bible. It's like being on vacation -- no traffic or lawn mowers or screaming children.So how did I do this? I'm up at 7am on a Saturday. My alarm clock was a little 15-month-old's shivery tears. She had squirmed out from under her sheet and was unable to sleep another wink. So I made the best of it.
Then Real Life realized that a mother of three was relaxing too much. Two seconds later, I found myself chasing escapee poop-balls across the deck after changing the aforesaid 15-month-old's diaper. I attempted to recover, poop-ball safely incarcerated in a wipe, ready for the dumpster...
...until this unwelcome visitor showed up, mere millimeters from my child and my coffee. I lured it onto the stinky diaper and tossed the whole nasty package in the outdoor trash. On the way back, I hear my oldest complaining that I haven't gotten her out of bed yet. The blissful morning is officially over.
