face-painting

So this is what happens when I turn my back to wash a couple of dishes while Sophie finger-paints. Notice the satisfied look on her face? She’s proud of that beard. The rest of the photos came out blurry because I was laughing too hard. Which made her laugh. And then there was paint all over the chair and the wall and almost on my camera.

You just have to laugh. Right?

The past 10 days have been ridiculous. Every single person in our little family got smacked with a nasty stomach virus, starting with Sophie. She was so sick that we fell quickly into this little routine: lay on momma, throw up on momma, change clothes, sip Pedialyte, and repeat.

After almost exactly 48 hours, she was back to her old self. Then Lily spiked a fever. By the end of Lily’s first day home with me, my stomach started to feel funny. And then Marc got the worst of it. Which really scared me because that meant I was on my own. I know I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my family, but there’s something about being a man down on team parenthood that feels like a punch in the gut.

I’m sleep-deprived and emotional and wallowing in self-pity (can you tell?) but as I type these words, I realize how silly I sound.¬†Everyone got sick. Everyone is better. Be thankful.

So I’m trying.

I can’t wait to curl up on the couch at my parents’ house on Thanksgiving morning and watch the parade with my kids. I can’t wait to blow past my daily calorie goal. I can’t wait to laugh and talk and look around the table at the faces of the people I love most.

This cloud over my head will disappear. I know it.

I just need to take a lesson from Soph and not care if there’s paint on my face.

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