I make promises to myself that I will be back here writing every week, and every week I do, err, not that.

Same tired excuses. Work. Dissertation (<– major culprit).

So much has happened though. Penguin graduated from preschool. Owl is forming little sentences that resemble cognizant thoughts and not just two-year-old word salad. And we are cleaning our closets, getting rid of baby clothes and baby things. Don't even get me started on that one.

I'm here. We're here. We're good.

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