Progress, at least in one respect

Well, the girls are babies now.
They are not squirming little lizards that bleat every half-hour, and they are not tiny little creatures that eat every hour and think 3 a.m. is a great time to be awake.
They are cute little people who look at you and smile and coo and actually recognize you as Mom or Dad (or at least a person who is nice to them and gives them food and occasional cuddles).
And they sleep, for the most part, through the night.
All that helps, to put it mildly.
Things are still, well, interesting. I still rarely have time to myself. I did manage to finish the Harry Potter book (the best one, and I'm now convinced the series deserves every bit of the hype it gets). My workouts are steady again, and I'm actually getting enough shut-eye to feel like I don't have bags of sand Lasiked to my eyelids.
And unfortunately, I'm able to play poker again.
But I still struggle with the grind. Yesterday we went to a party with a lot of friends. I had a great time, and the last hour was spent running around, literally non-stop, with Jayden, the world's most active toddler, at a park across the hosts' backyard (on a side note, playground equipment is MUCH cooler than when I was a kid; the teeter-totter, for instance, is simply awesome now).
When we got home at 7:30 p.m., I was exhausted to the core (I didn't realize how much, in fact, until today's run, when I barely made it 6 miles; my little guy can RUN). All I wanted to do was play a couple SnGs and bubble thanks to a suckout (not really THAT, but let's just say my expectations are pretty dead-on these days) and watch a long overdue Headbanger's Ball, which I have not seen in ages.
And five minutes after I plopped on the couch, Andie started to cry.
I honestly don't know where I got the energy, but I kept them at bay and then fed her, after Kate took Allie, and suddenly I was in no mood to watch Headbanger's Ball and just wanted to play a little cash poker upstairs in a dark room and crash.
So I sighed and turned off the TV.
As for the state of poker, because I'm actually wondering if this really is a poker blog anymore, it's really more of the hot fudge that sprinkles this blog (mmmm, sprinkles), I'm on the coldest streak of my life.
There are different kinds of streaks in poker. There's running hot and running bad. I'm running cold. It's not all bad. I'm not really losing a bunch of money. Hardly any, in fact. But that's because I'm getting no hands to speak of.
If I have a pocket pair, it does not flop a set. EVER. I do not get AA or KK. If I get QQ or JJ, an A or K flops Every.Single.Time. Draws do not get there. I haven't even seen two pair since Snape killed Dumbledore.
Yeah, I can bluff, and that's mostly why I haven't lost a ton. Cause it sure ain't the cards.
Oh, and I think I'm finally seeing the result of the fish drying up. Every table is just stuffed with the kinds of solid rocks we all hate. I feel like I'm playing at the Senior Center sometimes.
During these streaks, you're not really pissed off or hating poker. You're just bored to tears of it. I have, for instance, seen enough of 8,2 offsuit. Heck, I've seen enough of it suited too.
Then again, maybe the poker Gods are being kind. Maybe they know that my life is pretty packed as it is right now, and maybe the one thing I need is a little less excitement in my life.