In between washing sheets soaked with vomit (Arlo + the stomach flu) and burning two dozen gluten free cookies for their preschool parties, we managed to finish some pretty cute hand painted valentine cards (our tradition for the past few years, or at least as long as the boys have been fairly handy with their art supplies) . . . Valentines, which, sadly, did not hold up so well at school. Arlo told me most of his fell apart before the passing began. Product of a midnight endeavor I took on with complete exhaustion plaguing my every effort.
All that work for such a lousy outcome. . .
And then our own Valentine date, just the two of us for lunch near the beach at our old favorite Mexican restaurant where I tried my hardest not to fall asleep at the table during our only lunch putting in more than a couple months. Food was delicious. As always. But left me with a kind of heartburn I can't possibly even begin (or want) to describe. Apparently seven months pregnant, it maybe wasn't the wisest choice?
So now we're all off to bed. In freshly washed sheets. Kids collapsed, drunk off all their sugary indulgences, heads spinning from all the enticing treats tossed their way these past couple of days - most of which will conveniently end up in the trash come tomorrow morning, so they can regain their senses just in time for another celebration Sunday afternoon. A little birthday bash in honor of batman himself. The promise of a restful weekend feeling so far away.
But, today I was loved. And gave love.
It took a lot out of me. But in the end we made it through.
Messier than I would have wished. But memorable still.
Ok, Enough complaining.
From bed, with love,