So, my kids? They are happy. So happy, in fact, that they radiate gooey sticky sugary waves of sparkling sunsine. Or something like that.

And I? Have ten more comment sections to go and I’ll be done my report cards. A week early, thank you very much.

I’ve worked full time, done crafts, read a gajillion stories, watched Super Why ad nauseum, cuddled, tickled, kissed, sang, been the soccer mom, been the swimming mom, decorated the house for Halloween, packed all of that away, decorate the house for Christmas, hung out with my husband, prepared for the conference I’m presenting at this week (Out of town! Bringing my husband! Leaving my kids with my mom! Free date! First time ever!), cooked meals & kept two deep freezers full, baked cookies, baked muffins, stayed (almost) caught up on the laundry (but not the putting away thereof), and a little of this and a little of that. And we’re all happy. And it’s all good.

How long until this comes crashing down on me?