Somebody once told me that my problems with keeping house stemmed from perfectionism. It made no sense to me at the time--if I'm a perfectionist, why do I allow things to fall apart so badly? But now I see it. They're always creeping up on me, the thoughts that since things will never look the way I want, I might as well not even try. Paralyzing perfectionism.
So at least with the blog, I'll let the perfectionism go. I had planned to go back and show every good picture and share some nice moments out of the last few weeks. But no. Just this:
I'm Noah, 7.5 years old. I get into trouble with my brother Nate, 5 years old. And my brother Owen, he's 2, but I don't get into very much trouble with him, so he's better. And I have a good Mom and Dad. My mom's 36 right now and my dad's 37.