Michael and I were both really looking forward to our three day weekend. A few days earlier I opened my big mouth and mentioned how long it'd been since any of us were sick. Idiot. I woke up Friday with a sore throat and symptoms for seasonal allergies. Sloane did the same on Saturday. On Sunday we went to church, swam at a friend's house, and took long naps to cure our "allergies." And then Monday hit and the men in our family woke up sick. So.... maybe not allergies?
The cute Memorial Day outfits I'd chosen for the twins stayed tucked away in their closet. Instead, we've worn pajamas for six days straight. Today they are 19 months (another post coming shortly) so I pulled out the outfits, took some pictures, and we celebrated Memorial Day a mere four days late.
Did I also mention I had a slight panic attack with Jude (I'm not going into it) last Saturday that basically brought me to my knees for four days? Ahh yes.
There is a point to this post. On Sunday morning we trudged into church with two stuffy noses and the above fear weighing on my mind. The Children's Director (who also happens to be a friend) asked me how we were doing. I started to smile and cheerily say, "We're great!" but I just couldn't do it. I looked at her and blinked a few times and she said, "You're here."
I'm here. We're here.
That was it. That was exactly what we were. And the beauty of it? Sometimes "we're here" is all you can muster. That's ok too.
There have been several times this week I've thought about her comment and smiled. Through this crappy week, we're here. Through the tired tantrums (I'm referring to myself), the snot, the sleepless nights, the pitiful coughs... we're still here. And if that's the worst of it? I'd say we're doing pretty well.
I took this picture this morning and can't stop looking at it. Pure joy, these two.