I'm behind.

I'm behind. Please forgive me if I am still working on your pictures, I know you are anxiously waiting so see what I've come up with from your session. You are wanting to see your precious angels' adorable faces as seen from a different angle, in a different way, and I am enjoying creating these images for you.... but I am most definitely behind.

I could tell you that I am behind because I am still sore from that airplane incident, or that most of the family is fighting off severe head colds or that that leaky roof is actually from hail damage, not just the torrential rains we've had lately, and I have to arrange for the insurance inspector and the roofer to get here at the same time, or that my lovely G tripped while carrying an easel back downstairs and although she managed to escape unscathed, the wall and light switch at the bottom of the stairs did not, leaving me to navigate and work in the glow of a singe overhead desk lamp that dates to the mid seventies and whose brilliance can only be equated with a certain number of candles instead of actual watts until Ican find an electrician to come and rewire the place. Or I could tell you that I am just unable to stay awake past 11 pm anymore to get work done, so tired that when I finally do crawl into bed my bones ache and I fall asleep still straining to get my daily news update from Jon Stewart but somehow rarely make it past the part where he says "Welcome to the Daily Show..."

I suppose I could alleviate some of the tiredness by putting Little L in her own room in her own crib, to get myself a good night's sleep. Or I could just bite the bullet and register Little Guy in a morning nursery school and get him out of my hair so I could really focus on getting some stuff done. I suppose I could go to the store and buy G an Alice in Wonderland costume for Halloween instead of trying to make it myself out of tulle, and I'm pretty certain I should most definitely not have learned how to sew because now all I want to do is run over to the herbalist's sewing room and make things for the babies (hers and mine) out of scrap fabric and ribbon.

But I don't want to. If I did, I wouldn't have the pleasure of waking up with Little L cuddled to my side, her soft silky hair ticking my nose and her fat little hand rubbing my arm. Or, on some rare mornings, waking to find her sleeping on top of my face, cheek to cheek, her body splayed out across my shoulders. I wouldn't see Little man starting to use reasoning and logic to solve his own problems or learning to write his letters and draw dinosaurs and treasure maps and trains. I wouldn't be able to randomly take him on secret excursions to the aquarium, just the three of us, a quick drive down to marvel at the massive hulks that are the whale sharks or to stare at the starfish and anemones in the touch pool, too timid to reach out and feel them, but brave enough to think about it anyway.

What am I doing while I should be working? Holding the baby mostly, and watching the boy. Doing the dishes and the laundry and the shopping and cleaning up all the hair that that infernal dog leaves about the house. Reorganizing those clothing bins and donating unused things to people who can use them. Watching the littlest one learn to stand on her own and worrying for a friend who just had a cancer diagnosis handed down. Waiting for the school bus. Planning baby showers and birthday parties and room redecorations. Sending out prayers for another mother recovering from surgery. Thinking. Writing. Seeing. Watching. Documenting. I am trying to really pay attention this time around. I am trying to really be here with them, instead of half here while they play at my feet under the desk. I know that the littlest things are the ones I will miss the most when they are older, and I don't want to forget again.

So forgive me for the delays. I am working as hard as I can... for you, for them and for myself.