my day

breakfast: Cheerios all around. The twins decided to dump their bowls onto their chairs. sigh

lunch: pb&j's all around. The twins finished while I was in the potty and did you know that peanut butter is an excellent finger paint? It is. sigh.

nap time: hahaha. we don't need no stinking naps. sigh.

afternoon: Jack says," Hey Mom, there's a puddle over here under the coffee table." I go to investigate. Turns out that one of the twins hid her sippy cup in the coffee table drawer and it had been in there long enough for the milk to separate and slowly leak through the drawer onto the floor. sigh.

supper: Chicken, lima beans, sweet potatoes, and salad. Did you know that sweet potatoes make an excellent finger paint? sigh.

evening: Great. Harry got out of the fence. Oh shoot. What's he doing over there? "Harry! Harry! Come here, boy!" Oh no, is that...? It is. Crap. Another cute fuzzy creature bites the dust. I'd like to tell you that it was a rabbit or squirrel, but honestly I couldn't say for sure. He was so proud that as he came barrelling toward me he left some of it on my shoe. sigh.

Another day in the life of a full time mom.
Heavy sigh...

phlegm

Ah the joy of coughing and being coughed on and mucused on and snotted on and germed on and on and on...

Jack had bronchitis last week and was kind enough to give it to his parents. And if that wasn't enough, Lily and Sophia managed to catch a virus that caused temperatures up to 104!!!! Poor things! Olivia, however is happy as a clam running around distributing blankets and various other forms of comfort like teddy bears and My Little Ponies.

It's 72 degrees outside and we're all stuck inside miserable! I hate being sick, but I hate seeing my babies so miserable even worse. I can't wait for summer!!!!

the suffocating void

Last week my friend, Dylan, lost his dad. His dad had a liver disorder that would have required a transplant in years to come. It was serious, but fixable. He began having problems with his gall bladder and went in to have it removed. During the surgery, the doctors discovered he had stage 4 lymphoma. Three weeks later, he was gone.

It was so hard to see someone else lose their dad. Not because of "reliving" a really difficult time, but rather seeing someone you care about in pain. Knowing what he was going through and what he will go through. I just wanted to hold him and make him feel better.

But I coudn't. It's just something we all have to go through in time.

I want to tell him that you will walk around in a haze for weeks. That you will see something really funny and pick up the phone to call your dad, and then remember he's not there. The suffocating void. You will miss his presence in ways never imagined. You will instantly become your mother's biggest protector. You will be blindsided when your son looks up at you and says, "Mom, is Dad going to die someday?" You will look at your beautiful children and realize that they too will someday go through this pain and you can't stop it. As a parent, you don't have time to grieve. Life doesn't stop. And so you will learn to allow your tears to fall alone in the shower or in the car or in the middle of the night when you can't sleep. Your dad's favorite movie will be on TV and you can't help but watch it through to the end, even though it bored you to tears weeks before. You hear a song on the radio and you collapse. You see that the world around you goes on as before and you just want to shout, "Wait a minute! Just wait one minute, please! I can't breathe! I can't breathe! Stop!" But, but no one hears you. It's as if you're in the nightmare where you are running as fast as you can and everything is in slow motion and you're going nowhere fast.

But, then one morning you wake up and you see a buttlerfly outside your window and hope is restored. You begin to see the beauty in a sunset like never before. Your little girl winks for the first time and you're convinced that a little "angel" taught her. You find yourself telling stories about your dad and celebrating his life. Remembering all the wonderful times you had together. The gift is, all the hard times are now very fuzzy and faint and really don't matter any more. Every picture is a treasure, every birthday card a blessing.

You survive. Amazingly, you survive.