The past few weeks have been wonderful and ugly. In my little bubble things have been pretty smooth and happy, while so much of the rest of the world has not. Cue a lot of emotional confusion. Gratitude and guilt. Joy and horror. Hope and helplessness. The dissonance is awkward and uncomfortable.
Things felt weird. I wasn’t sure how to start up a dumb blog again.
And then last night our close friend invited us to dinner at a a beautiful country club where carolers dressed in A Christmas Carol garb wandered around from table to table singing.
george c. scott’s a christmas carol
It was such a treat. The food was amazing, the kids were dazzled. We basked in the holiday cheer. Both kids fell asleep in the car on the way home and we tucked them into bed with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.
Then 4am HH woke up yelling that her tummy hurt. On the way to the toilet she threw up all over the bathroom floor.
This wasn’t my first rodeo. I sprinted out of the bathroom to find a hair elastic. On the way back in I saw her basically submerge her head — long, luscious hair first — into the toilet bowl as she was retching. And in that moment of panic I didn’t watch where I was going, stepped in the puddle of puke on the floor, slipped, and pulled a groin muscle.
So why don’t we start there.