Three little monkeys jumping on the bed

One fell off, and then the batteries disappeared so that Mommy wouldn't have to listen to those damn monkeys anymore.

Kids' toys. Gotta love 'em.

Today has been productive. I have accomplished washing the dishes, watering the plants I collected from my dad's funeral, and laundry is a'launderin'. I've washed the funk off of Amos' little bed, and I cleaned the bathroom sink. I almost had a meal planned, but then we decided that a bag o' shrimp from the 1930s is probably freezer burned. Oh, well. I can't be Martha Stewart every hour of the day.

Oh, and I had some business time. Meow! Rawr! Pfft!

After a month of living in other peoples' houses and sleeping on weird, hard mattresses or on my all time favorite, the air bed, I am finding myself to be more open to cleaning, fussing, and generally raising an eyebrow at the various untidy mounds we Porters have collected over the years.

The other reason? An entirely too mobile baby.

Amos has proven to be a grinning menace on four appendages. He grabs the cat, pulls at cabinets, chews on cords (electric and other), eats paper, and still manages to be cute while destroying our home. Currently, he is climbing Phil as he peruses my cookbook. Amos has that look in his eye, that one that says, "Mmm. That is tasty-looking paper. Put that in my belly!"

Did I mention it is my BRAND NEW cookbook? Grr.

Otherwise, life in the Porter Compound is going swimmingly. Occasionally, I have a fit of despair, normally when I am alone (last night's shower, for instance). But, with all of the potential danger and possibility of baby electrocution and/or dismemberment, who has time to grieve? Three cheers for harried mothers!

That's all for now. Time to save my precious book from Amos' digestive juices...