I’ve thought about this blog every day, many times a day, for the past three weeks. I’ve wanted to write something, anything, but each time I had the opportunity to sit down here and write there was always another thing demanding my attention.

Like maybe Archie, Kit and Jack were non-stop hounding me to take them to the pool, or maybe the little boy up the street rang our doorbell and I had to go outside and sit on our front stoop while my kids played with him. Or maybe Archie wanted me to read another book to him, or maybe Kit asked me over and over again until I finally agreed to color with her, or maybe Jack talked me into building another parking garage with the three tubs of wooden blocks sitting on the rug outside my office door.

And then there’s the laundry, and the housework, and the yard work, and that ear infection I had. I’ve had butts to wipe, and errands to run, and some days it’s just so hot and humid all I really want to do is sit on the couch with Archie, Kit and Jack tucked in around me and watch cartoons on television.

There was that holiday, too, and John was home and we had things to do, and I’ve got e-mails to answer and web sites to read, and then there’s always facebook with its endless list of status updates that usually just serve to piss me off so why I waste my time reading them I’m not entirely sure, but… there it is…

Yesterday was the first day all three kids had something to do away from home at the same time since school ended in May. Archie’s enrolled in summer classes at his school, and Kit and Jack are enrolled in summer camp at their school, but with all the breaks and staggered starts neither schools were in session at the same time until yesterday.

When I dropped Archie off he was downright gleeful to see Miss Janelle, one of the assistant teacher’s in his classroom, when she came out to the parking lot to help him from our car. When I took Kit and Jack to their school they were immediately put to work making lion faces out of paper plates for safari week, their classes’ theme for the next few days.

I watched them painting their plates from the window after I’d left, those twins, before I got into my car. Kit, who calls herself an artist, appeared to be thoughtfully working. Each meticulous stroke of her paintbrush looked deliberate, well planned. But Jack was making a face as he painted, his nose scrunched up into his eyes, his lips pulled back far enough to lay his teeth bare. At first I thought that face meant Jack would rather not work on the project, but when I noted the ferocity with which he pressed his brush against the plate I suspected that he was actually affecting his best inner beast for inspiration’s sake. I shook my head and laughed as I walked the rest of the way to the parking lot.

When I went back to school a few hours later to pick Kit and Jack up, I got to laugh again as both kids held those lion faces in front of their own as we walked from the classroom to our car. All three of us roared a few times, and one of the other mothers we passed along the way feigned fear for fun, and I’d be lying if I told you that the little things like that walk to the car yesterday afternoon didn’t make up for the three times I had to put both kids in timeout two mornings ago.

Then there was this morning’s drive to school, too, when Archie called out the names to the songs from my iPod that I played over the car stereo. “That’s Human,” he said first. And then later, “This is Airstream Driver.” But Walcott received his most enthusiastic response. “Oh! There it is!” he proclaimed before he placed both palms atop each of his knees and began shaking his head from side to side in time with the beat. I’m unsure from where Archie’s proclivity for music comes, but knowing he likes the same music as I do makes those shortcomings over which he has no control feel like less of a kick in the teeth.

Yesterday afternoon, after we got home from school, I sat beside Kit on the couch in the playroom. She watched me write in the notebook in my lap, her head resting on my shoulder. “What’s that spints?” she wanted to know. When I asked Kit what she was talking about she pointed to the word I’d printed across the top of the paper.

“Did you read that word?” I wanted to know and Kit answered by shaking her head up and down, up and down.

To be honest, I’d written spinx, not spints as Kit had said. But still.

Brian, my trainer at the gym, knows that Kit floats when she runs so when I told him today the story of her reading that word in my notebook Brian remarked about how awesome it’ll be if one day Kit tears it up out there on the track and I can tell her that the first word she ever read was the first entry in my training log for my next race, the Spinx half-marathon in October.

Do you know what else is awesome? On the Fourth of July Kit woke up and declared that she was done with her pacifier. Finished. As in, “Please throw them all away, Mommy.” She was only allowed to use her pacifier at night, in her bed, and Kit knew that John and I were going to make her give up her collection of pacifiers on her fourth birthday, ready or not. Kit wasn’t enthusiastic about that deadline, I know, so it surprised me when she declared her independence from that little plastic nub on Independence Day. It surprised me, but I was happy for it and all together amazed when Kit only cried for a little bit that night at bedtime before she fell asleep. She hasn’t mentioned those pacifiers since.

Finally, finally we are moving forward around here.