Last night I went to bed feeling bad. I was thinking about the raw material of the day and what I made of it. I didn't have a lot of obligations, and I did have a lot of resources. We could have baked or played outside, gone to the park or done one of the experiments from Simon's science kit that he's always asking to do. Simon and Jude had limitless energy and enthusiasm, but I didn't. I was tired. I was very tired and a little discouraged, so we just sort of got through the day as best we could, and a couple times I sent Simon to his room and told him "you're not in trouble but I desperately need a break."
I decided that we would make better use of today; however, within 15 minutes of waking up, I pulled a muscle in my lower back by carrying Jude while experiencing a major coughing fit. I dropped Jude and couldn't move for 2 and a half hours. Not a good start. Thankfully, the Rowells came and took Simon and Susan and Ian spent the morning at our house since I couldn't lift Jude. A couple ice packs and 800mg of ibuprofen later, I was walking around, but I still wondered why my body insists on falling apart. Why must our days be defined by how sick and tired I am?
Here's the surprise: when Simon got home at 2:30 we read three chapters of Winnie the Pooh, which is quite a feat and only possible when Jude is sleeping. Then, when Jude got up, we made homemade peanut butter chocolate chip granola bars. Then we did a science experiment. After dinner and some Dave-Simon-Jude playing in a boy cave made by our comforter, we tucked them in. Successful day! Children engaged! Hurray!
Of course, there's also this to remember: The whole time I was pregnant with Jude I felt awful and one of the only things I could do was read. I love reading children's books, and doing so, even with voices and inflection, requires almost no energy for me. So we read and read and read while I was pregnant. And the whole time I felt so guilty about all the things we weren't doing -- how little boys need to go out and play, how I should be engaging him in other activities better. But now, two years later, I look at Simon and how much he loves to read, how he can sit for long stretches and listen to stories from books or just from my mouth, how vast his imagination is, and I think, maybe all that reading wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe even the days that feel squandered aren't so bad. Maybe sending him to his room when I need a break will grow him into a person who does not require other people or things to entertain him.
And here's my hope: that I won't be so sick and tired. But even when I am, that it won't define our days. I want our days to be defined by love.
Photo Captions: Last Friday was another of those productive days when, despite Jude and I feeling lousy with colds, we made fake snow (some colored), undertook a major art project, and then Dave took Simon to the Duke women's basketball game. When the game ended at 9pm, they went to Waffle House and had waffles! Even though days like that are fun and make for good pictures, our kids would probably end up weird and spoiled if we didn't sprinkle in "you're driving me crazy, just go play by yourself" days too. Right?
A stomach bug is traveling through our family. It was pretty short and mild for Simon and Dave, but Jude still had a cold and he takes GI stuff hard. Even though it has been a while since he's had ongoing reflux issues, I was reminded last night how immune we've become to him vomiting. He seemed to be feeling better and we were all at the formal table for a lovely meal with Dave's parents. Out of nowhere, Jude started throwing up all over himself, his plate and the floor. I took one look, realized he needed a minute to finish, and kept plowing away at the food on my plate. Simon turned to me and said, "Can you please pass the rolls?" Grandma and Grandpa were the only ones who had to wait until all vomit was out of sight before they could enjoy their food again.
