Moments after my husband left to take our oldest on a cub scout camping trip, our youngest daughter, Claire (17-months) woke up from her nap with a raging fever.
So we spent last night up and down interchanging ibuprofen, acetaminophen, water, rocking, singing, walking and in general, sharing exhaustion.
Our middle child, Kate (4 years old) has been an absolute trooper. Entertaining herself with oil pastels, painting, building forts, reading Dr. Seuss, eating Bomb Pops, and watching Toy Story... I owe her big.
We haven't left the house. It's 5:00 pm and we're still in our pajamas. Claire's had three tubs. I've drank copious amounts of coffee and eaten more dark chocolate covered espresso beans than I care to admit.
And, all in all, we're winging it and trying to breathe in and breathe out until bedtime.
Do you ever have those days? You know the ones. Where they don't go down at all as you'd expected. I had planned to take the girls and their friend to the park for a picnic lunch. I was going to paint Kate's toes and my own. We were going to order in pizza and watch a movie. It was going to be a fun girl's weekend. But with a baby attached to my hip and crying ringing in my ears, I'm trying to remember to be in the moment. Even though I wish the moment would pass before I lose my mind.