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I've begun - and then scrapped - so many posts to this blog recently. Each one has sounded like an apology more than anything else, so perhaps I'll just get it out of my system and then I can move on. It's true this blog began as an essay, of sorts, to my children.  The past few months, it has felt harder to put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, and filter out what needs to be said and what doesn't, harder to edit the details of my life to what matters. I can safely say Jack's arrival saw me go a little deranged, but then, what post-partum period isn't?  But I felt eaten up with a sleep deprived anxiety about the future and I wonder whether, at the heart of my worries, was the selfish panic that I would never ever have any time again, time for anything, time for myself, to write a bit - write this small effort at capturing my children - no time at all that wasn't taken up with nursing, soothing and changing an infant; feeding, tantrum-managing and entertaining a two year old or ferrying around, negotiating with and being interrogated by a four year old, and then cleaning it all up and starting over again! That gives you a taste of the passing undocumented days...and when I say undocumented I say it with the sweaty realisation that the 'genius' I saw in the Apple store seems to have erased all 6,000 photos I've taken since 2006.  That's the birth of three children, five years of 'firsts', and yes - I really thought I had backed them all up but everything I seem to open is blank and bare.  So here's where the memory will have to sharpen up.  And that really sums it up, just as I'm about to share some thoughts here, something like the loss of 6,000 precious photos gets in the way, and then someone, usually everyone, needs feeding again!