All I hear, for the moment, are the soothing strains of an old Norah Jones track. My head is eager to cling to familiar lyrics and calming instrumentals. Or wine. My head would be eager to cling to wine. Unfortunately, as the years have gone by, my tolerance for alcohol has morphed in a most unpleasant way. These days, if I have more than a teaspoonful, I am unable to sleep. Everything is morphing, truth be told. Do you know, I looked in the mirror, not one week ago, to see that wrinkles had taken up residence beneath my eyes? This happened to me. I raced to the mall, naturally. There I accosted the first saleswoman I could tackle at Sephora and demanded an immediate solution. She was most accommodating. With the aide of my credit card, she was able to provide me with a Miracle Balm guaranteed to make me 20. It might be working, too. If you kind of squint, while on your second glass of wine, I look much younger.

In other news, I have developed an obsession worthy of reality TV. Surprising, I know. It's FitBit. It's insane. It's super motivating. I have lost 19 pounds. That is a huge number, 19. Unless we' are talking years, in which case, it's the age of a child. But in girth of oneself, it's an alarmingly large number. I had kind of gotten fat, there for a bit. I didn't much care for it. Which is fine, because I'm done being fat. If another one of my kids goes to jail, prison, or rehab, I may reconsider. For the moment, though, I am quite committed to a fit physique.

Speaking of my progeny: The two eldest have moved out. They are roommates with several other men, just across town. They visit often...when it's dinnertime, or breakfast time, or their laundry needs attention. I have discovered that adult children are delightful when they do not live at home. It frees a mother up to love them while keeping a healthy distance. Not that they think I am nearly distant enough, but, whatever. The youngest two are still lurking about here, somewhere. Mostly, they are in dark rooms with the blinds drawn, being inert. I don't even know how to parent inertness. How does one steer a ship in the doldrums? Chores! I've assigned chores to the resident sloths. Aaron knows that his must be completed before he can launch into video games at 5 pm. At 4:30, the child becomes the very model of industry. Never mind that his posterior is permanently imprinted on the couch! As the desired hour approaches, he springs into action and accomplishes all with alacrity. Faline, on the other hand, can only be motivated to action by...wait....this remains a riddle. The older two weren't inactive. Now, I grant you that their actions were less than ideal, but they were pretty consistently in motion.

All of the kids are really doing well, so far as I can tell. Christmas this year was so far superior to last year's holiday that I can scarcely communicate the difference. All four of the children were here, with presents and laughter and cinnamon rolls. There's been quite a lot of laughter around here, in fact. The older boys really have been around a lot, and not just at mealtime. We've taken to playing games (Exploding Kittens, anyone?) and even my little introverts come out of their shells to join in the hilarity caused by the family extroverts. I feel happier than I have in a while. It's the absence of chronic stress, coupled with a genuine gratitude for what God has given us Today.

It's good.