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That pretty much sums up how I'm feeling these days. Life goes on, day in, day out, and even though our routine looks like a chaotic mess to the normal folk, for us it really just looks like nothing to write home about after a while. It starts to feel like I just write the same things over and over, and then I remember, THIS is why I always failed at keeping a journal. I felt like I was writing out of obligation, and I had an overall attitude of "why bother?" about it because I already knew all of my issues, I already knew what was going on in my life, what was good and what was bad and what was funny and what was sucky. And now I feel like anyone who reads this blog has simply become another version of me during my journal failures: Yeah, we know. Bryce is intense. Quinn is loud crazy three. Hannah is unmotivated. John is insanely busy. You have a fairly unsatisfying but not miserable job. The family dynamic is chaotic. Is this all you've got? Well, it's all I've got that I'm willing to publish at this time, so we'll all just have to deal with that sad fact.

In the meantime, I can tell you that we've been taking the kids to the neighborhood pool in the evenings. People, if you've ever doubted the love I have for my children, THAT should clear things up for you. I go to a public location and walk around in a bathing suit, an article of clothing that exposes - no, accentuates - the parts of my body that I work the hardest to disguise in every other situation in my life, JUST SO MY KIDS CAN HAVE FUN.

And they do have fun. They have fun begging to slide on the big tunnel slide and into the 4-ft-deep end even though neither of them can swim and are afraid to come down once they get up there, hanging halfway down the tunnel and clutching the edge of the tunnel opening with their little white, wrinkled, wet hands. They have fun demanding, while they hang there with their water wings smashing their cheeks and their tiny biceps stretching and aching because they refuse to let go, that John "catch" them and "not let them go under at all" despite the physical impossibility of that request based on their weight, the angle of the slide, and John's mere human-sized arms and desire not to be kicked in the face. They have fun watching me look like a big, slow elephant as I attempt to "stomp" through four feet of water over to the pool ladder after threatening to "take them right home" if they don't stop holding up the slide line and let go of the edge, already. Mostly, they have fun laughing in anticipation of what they know will happen when I, in all of my surface irritation, approach the slide and reach up to pry their vise-like grip one slick finger at a time from the blue plastic rim, ultimately forcing them to slide the remaining 18 inches through the tunnel and into John's hands. And they really have fun when I tell them with a frustrated sigh that since it STILL seems to be a scary slide for them, that was it for the evening, and they bolt away from me and the shallower pool and toward the slide steps, all while laughing hysterically, thus starting the insane process all over again. Weeeee!!

I guess this means Quinn didn't develop a water phobia after nearly drowning a few weeks ago. So, there is that.