There are two ways this post can go.

I could say that I’ve missed however-many-days of the 31 for 21 Blog Challenge because I’ve got nothing worth saying, and that I learned a long time ago that the only thing worse than saying nothing is saying something that’s really worth nothing.

Or I could say that I’ve got nothing to say because I have so many things worth saying, but that I’ve discovered with so much to think about and so much to do that all the thinking and doing leaves time for little else. I’m probably not making much sense, I know. But that’s exactly what I mean.

Last week I drove the kids to school, and then picked them up from school. I had chores to complete and laundry to wash, floors to clean and a shedding dog to brush. There were doctor appointments to go to, and birthday parties to attend, and flu shots to get. I had to empty the dishwasher, and cook dinner, and lend a hand to three little people who wanted to ride their bikes outside on a hot autumn afternoon.

All of the pollen outside sent my asthma into overdrive, and I’ve had children in my bed most nights who have no business being in my bed. John’s been busy with physical therapy appointments for his bum knee, and work, too, and he gets frustrated with me when I lose patience with him and roll my eyes while he talks business on his cell phone in the car, during dinner, in the middle of the night.

I trained, and I went to the track, and I’ve run up and down the side of the road. I made a few trips to the cleaners, to the bank, to the post office. I had to fill my gas tank up twice last week and then again today. I’ve lost count of how many recent trips I’ve made to the grocery store, but I can tell you that I dead lifted 155 pounds this morning at the gym.

On Friday Archie brought home from school a stack of work that focused on fire safety because last week was National Fire Prevention Week, and I went to Kit and Jack’s class to volunteer as a mystery reader after John joined them that morning for Donuts for Dads. This week I’ll go to the apple orchard with Kit and Jack’s class, and I’ll take Archie to the dentist after I stop by his classroom and read his favorite book to his classmates.

The kids wore their rain boots today. Kit helped me put the clean clothes away when she and her brothers got home from school. Jack insisted that I’m a bad mother because I wouldn’t allow him another snack after he finished his first one, and just this morning Archie woke up with a dry diaper and peed in the potty, first thing

We’ve had timeouts and temper tantrums. There have been kids jumping on furniture and peeling pillows off the couch. John and I fought about feathers on the floor and dirty clothes. I’m still smarting at a slight from a friend.

But in the middle of all this business, Archie, Kit and Jack, and John and I, too, we’ve laughed a lot, learned a little, and liked spending our time with each other. And that’s what I hang onto at night, after the kids have gone to bed. I look at the way we’re living and I’m glad for it and it feels like enough to just do it.

There are two things I can say about that, about living without explanation.

I could say that’s a positive thing because it is. Doing and saying is better than thinking because it requires decision and action. Living with intention takes commitment, and I’m happy my commitments leave me spent at night.

Or I could say that living like this is a gift, and that feels particularly true when I look at what we do and say and feel all day here in our home through the lens of the 31 for 21 Blog Challenge. After everything, after Archie’s diagnosis and his heart surgery and his treatment for leukemia, we are still here, we are still moving forward, we are nearly normal. Maybe we’re even better than normal, after all.