I am elbow deep in tissues.
And poopy diapers, and runny noses, and sore throats. Moments where you wonder if you should wipe a baby bum or nose first {always the baby bum... } moments filled with is it really that necessary for them not to dance on the table? Everything takes so much effort.
This morning before he left, I asked Lucas to bring out the tv. He knew better than to oblige, instead setting up the laptop with a movie for Fynn. But I was desperate.
Now I'm floating five stories up thanks to some cold medicine, and some energy hijacked from a Diet Coke {I know... clear liquids... } It lets me smile instead of wallow. Because wallowing is a friend to no one.
We rest, and snuggle, and head butt, and snuggle and giggle. All a little more silently thanks to the sore throats. They want love, I give them love. They want veggie chips for lunch, today they got veggie chips for lunch. We give to each other and we feel warmth. We feel five stories higher than we should. We rest because, ultimately, there's a girls night that will possibly involve sushi that I will be at tomorrow night. Because even though I might not be able to taste the spicy tuna rolls, I'll feel the warmth that comes with friendship, in the passing of a tissue and turning a blind eye to red runny noses.
Chicken nuggets cooking, movie in progress, naps completed. My fingers are gliding and and typing because I need them to. Stringing together sentences that I didn't know could exist.
Now there is a glow worm playing classic melodies in a cabinet where it was deliberately placed with the tupperware. There is a little boy telling me he just went pee pee {and not in the bathroom} and in the same breath he needs a little something to eat. And I am elbow deep, and five stories high, still smiling, still moving, still wiping noses and dishing out chicken nuggets and veggie chips.