The girls enjoying stories from Grandpa's personal history. Here they're reading about Bossy the Cow.
Little Cutie
Chloe sometimes takes care of Dane when I need help at the end of the day. She and Jocelynne are great with him.
Logan and Tristan took most of last week off of school while battling influenza B.
Tristan was delirious with fever throughout the first night and woke up a couple of times talking nonsense. A full course of Tamiflu helped pull him out of it.
I also ended up at the doctor's office a few days ago, getting Amoxicillin for my annual Louisiana lung funk. While in the waiting room, I watched a designer and home owner on HGTV fawned over the tiny details in some woodwork. I inwardly groaned, thinking, "What a waste of time and resources. That could be obliterated by a wayward truck at any moment." That's when I realized I probably need to adjust my thinking.
I need to stop wondering when our things will be destroyed again. I need to stop jumping every time I hear a loud noise.
When I saw the family crib, dejected and broken and destined for the dumpster, I decided it might help me heal to salvage it. I pried off an end and spent a few hours painting and drilling.
It now hangs on the wall of our entryway. It makes me happy, and it keeps all of the backpacks off of the floor.
The kids like having their own knobs to hang their things on, and I like that our faithful crib is still in service,
as it has been for over four decades. (Sari obviously belongs in the crib, but what the heck am I doing in there? I'm huge.)
No comments:
Post a Comment