Right now both Noah and Rosie are turning cartwheels in our living room. And I don’t mean that metaphorically. I mean they are literally flipping their feet over their bodies onto a mattress on the floor in the middle of the main room of our house. Lamps are shaking.
Rosie was finally, after an entire week of general malaise and extreme master-level grumpiness, diagnosed with a double ear infection, which we are now dutifully treating with walloping doses of antibiotics and bourbon. (The bourbon is for us.)
L came back from Boston on Tuesday night, seven days after leaving. Upon his return, I immediately went into my room, closed the door, and buried myself underneath every blanket, sheet and pillow I could find. And then I slept forever. In fact, I’m still there, dreaming. I am posting this from the other side.
We didn’t so much enjoy this week as survive it, which in my humble opinion is a quite terrible way to blaze through your existence.
Here’s to more team parenting, less ear bacteria and more posting next week.