Today is done… and so am I. In fact, I was done an hour after waking up. And judging from how far sideways the rest of the day went, so was everyone else.
Very little work got done today, and not for a fun reason like tobogganing. K was getting frustrated by the simplest tasks, R was screaming about how she couldn’t do it (no matter which “it” we were talking about), and E was doing her best to resemble a floppy noodle.
When I walked into E’s room just after her morning zoom class and saw two chunks of hair on the floor and a pair of scissors on the desk, I knew this was definitely going to be a weird day.
“I got tired of it being in my eyes,” she explained patiently.
Puzzled, I asked, “Why don’t you just let me braid your hair? Or put it up in a ponytail? Or cut it short?”
“I don’t like having it brushed or braided. And I don’t want short hair.”
“Okay, whatever.” I sighed. “Can you please just put the hair into the garbage can? Thanks.”
Not sure if I mentioned it or not, but I seem to be having a fibro flare. My legs hurt like they used to in fourth year university, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what brought this on. I’ve been sleeping nine hours a night, exercising, eating well… why do I hurt again?
In happier news, we’ve been working on the puzzle a little bit every day. Look how much we’ve done:
In unhappier news, there’s no ice cream in the house. Despite the lack of empirical evidence, I maintain that there’s a positive correlation between ice cream consumption and the tolerability of a fibro flare.
I took the kids tobogganing this afternoon. We only have three sleds, so K and R built another one out of a cardboard box and a garbage bag. I was impressed by their initiative.
When we got to the park, they took off with two of the better sleds, leaving E with the box. They had hyped it up so that she was very excited about her box sled and how it was made from scratch at home, but it was a little sad watching her trudge through the snow trying to hold the box, which had no handles or rope to pull. Sometimes being the youngest is a bummer.
At least R and K redeemed themselves by returning after half an hour and swapping sleds with E.
All of us—the four kids, Mr. December, and I—are hoping that today is just a blip on the radar and tomorrow will be a much better day.
By objective standards, though, our day—in our warm home, wearing comfy clothes, with food in the fridge (but no ice cream), together as a family—seems pretty good after all.