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I’m sitting here listening to the baby scream and VGR be fawned over by NPR. Thank you so much, Bishop, for everything you do. Thank you so much, Bishop, for everything you are. Thank you for your courage, Bishop. Thank you thank you thank you. Honestly. Glad the screaming baby is making it difficult to hear.

Its already afternoon, because of blighted Daylight Savings, and I am sitting in my bathrobe, on the couch, surrounded by bills and slips of paper with telephone numbers on them. There is glass everywhere because E flung a bowl on the floor this morning while trying to extract a waffel from the toaster. There is syrup lathered over everything because she then ate said waffel with syrup she’d poured herself. There is potting dirt liberally sprinkled over the carpet because, well, I don’t know why. I must have been looking the other way.

Into this chaos, mayhem and filth I am happy to announce that we expect Baby Number 4. I know, I know. These kinds of things can be prevented, but not when you practice NFP, which, as we all know, doesn’t work. So we’re delighted, while the world, the church, and everyone else we know, laughs at us in shock and horror. This news will explain to you the lack in blogging, of late. I haven’t been able to think, or stand up, or do work, or anything without fighting down some of the worst nausea to which I’ve ever been subject.

But I hope you will whole heartedly congratulate me. I’m having my fair share of babies, and someone else’s fair share as well.