Hiatus

I've been having a rough couple of whiles (h/t to my old friend Hayley for that well-framed expression)--sickness within the clan, various squirrel-nut-crazy activities of various children that required my attention and--worse--participation, my usual thyroid issues (note to self: cannot do life on 4 to 5 hours of sleep for protracted period). Plus, I formally acknowledge that preschool boys are sometimes only fun for other preschool boys. Burping on purpose: that ship sailed for me about four decades ago. All that to say, I am back. (crickets chirping) It's a pleasure to be here.

Under the Weather

I've been having the flu since the weekend and have been on the just-barely-making-it time management plan. Didja know children come with their own agendas? Even if you are sick. I don't know why I am surprised every time by that little fact. And at least one child here is still grieving over the recent (two Sundays back) death of Muriel, his well loved and talented hamster. Muriel rocked. Best. Hamster. Ever. Made me rethink the whole rodent pet issue.

Seven is the number of perfection

Welcome to Circus Payne, my blog about my large family of performing fleas. Excuse me, children. Whom I love. Really. No one could be more disconcerted than me to realize (well, I can hardly escape from the knowledge on a minute-by-minute basis) that I have seven children. NOT part of the original game plan. Not that there was ever a plan, but seven did not really figure into it. I'm still adjusting. That's what Circus Payne is for, a place for me to catch my breath and maybe for you to have a laugh. I don't mind. Everyone loves the circus, right? Seven is considered the number of perfection in some religions. I would perhaps use a different word than "perfection." When you have seven children, rugged and spirited individuals all, the more appropriate word would be "chaos." I would say "hell on wheels", but that's three words. And I'd hate to discourage you.