I am used to many of my posts being greeted with great warmth and empathy.

“I feel exactly the same way!” I hear.

But I don’t think that this will be that kind of post; it is going to be a different post.

An unpopular post.

And that is OK.

I am writing in support of the snow day today, and, really, in defense of all snow days, whether the call was made wisely due to blizzard-like-conditions, or prematurely, causing great inconvenience.

I am a teacher. I have been the director of programs for children. I am a stay-at-home-mom and the primary caregiver for my kids. I am a writer who works from my house.

I get it.

But first, let me backtrack a bit. Before I was a mother, I was a teacher. I went to graduate school for education, have taught at many age levels and have heard countless (literally countless) complaints about school being closed for snow days.

When parents enroll their children in school, educational or extracurricular programs, they do so because they need to. And when those programs are cancelled because of (impending or falling or fallen) snow, it can cause problems, ranging from inconvenient to nearly impossible.

But, and I say this with all of the compassion in the world, I think that this culture of “OH NO, PLEASE I PRAY THAT MY KID’S SCHOOL DOESN’T CLOSE” has gotten a bit ridiculous. There, I said it. This is part of what is going to make this post unpopular; perhaps, even unappreciated. But, let me explain.

During my first years as a full time teacher, I was not yet a mother, though I longed to be. This is not a subject I have ever broached on this site before, and this is not the post in which I will really be doing so, though it is coming. It took me a bit of time to conceive my first child. I had no diagnosis, no medical problems of which to speak, and I was very young. It just wasn’t happening. And that situation went from inconvenient to nearly impossible.

I have always been a teacher who loved my students as my own and cared for them as such; It was hard when I held children, for whom I cared so deeply, and found myself waiting month after month, facing the constant disappointment of “we will try again next time”. You may have noticed on my sidebar that I have advertised for The Healing Arts Center of Philadelphia since the launch of the new site. This is because, as I have stated time and again, the goal of the advertising on my site is to make peoples’ lives better and that is what Steven Mavros did for me. Much more on Steven and his practice later, as they will be the subject of a whole post (because, really, the story of how we recently went out for a business dinner and I told our waiter, “This is the man who got me pregnant, but no, we have never been together” deserves a post of it’s own, does it not?) but for now, I am just trying to provide context. I wanted to be a mother, but it took some time. And every time a parent would complain to me about how the school had to close for “another school day?” something inside me would hurt.

But I am a compassionate and non-judgmental person. I realized, always, two salient points: that these parents loved their children to no end and that I had no real concept of what it was like to actually be a parent, day in and day out, as my children left me at the end of each school day.

And then, in 2010, I became a mother. For four years, I taught every day while also being the primary caregiver to my daughter. It was a constant juggling act. I had to miss things little things like pediatrician appointments and snuggly sick days, and then bigger things, like her recent camp visiting day when she learned how to swim for the very first time. Again, these things that I missed, they were sometimes inconvenient and other times, nearly impossible.

But enough about the past. Let’s move on to today. Because today is the first day when I have worked up the courage to say this thing that I have been thinking since I was a student teacher nearly a decade ago.

Let me give you some of my perspective:

Today, I have two kids home with me, as I stay at home with my son and my daughter’s school is closed for a snow day.

Today, I had 4 appointments on my calendar, as well as the management of several projects involved in the finishing of our basement. At least one has been delayed so far because of today’s snow, pushing back our deadline (which was originally scheduled for January 5) even further.

Today I had two doctor’s appointments, one for my son that is possibly scary and definitely time sensitive

and one for myself.

I don’t talk about it all the time, but I am still facing major health issues and a dramatic change in my treatment plans.

I also had a business meeting scheduled for a possible partnership that would be extremely exciting for me and even more exciting for you (pinky swear).

I also have a babysitter scheduled for today, but because of the weather and her commute from center city, we had to change her hours to keep her safe (my top priority, no question).

 Finally, I have this. This is not only a source of great joy for me (which it is–it so is) but it is also my job. And while I try to tell my daughter to watch my son so that I can publish a quick post, the laptop is like a magnet for a 16 month old whose favorite toys are the Xbox, remote and toilet (read: I cannot type a word when he is in the room, and I can’t leave him alone without him crawling into the oven).

This means that for me, snow days are far from easy. But I love them. I love today. I smiled when I woke at 6:15am to see the email from my daughter’s preschool that they would be closed. I was so excited to tell her that we would be able to stay home together, drinking hot chocolate and making up new games. I love the necklace of beaded hearts that I am wearing, just placed around my neck by my little girl who wanted to make me a special snow day present.

I am discouraged that my son’s appointment with the ophthalmologist has to be postponed;

I am disappointed that I won’t have my coffee date that I was hoping to turn into a partnership;

I get overwhelmed by the juggling act, just like everyone else.

But I am also endlessly grateful. I am so grateful that the people who are in charge of my daughter’s school have decided that her safety (our safety) is paramount;

I am grateful that I can hear my kids whispering from the other room right now as I type (I am hiding the laptop under a blanket) as they hide in their own clubhouse of sorts.

But, most of all, I am grateful that I have the problem of having more juggling pins than I have hands, because that means that my dreams have come true.

I have the resources to get help for my health issues;

I am writing, now, every day;

I am a mother.

So perhaps, instead of scorning the snow day (or me, for writing this unpopular post), you can find a way to celebrate it,

inconveniences, impossibilities and all,

because a snow day that makes life hard means that we have so much.

Appointments can be rescheduled. Personal days can be taken. Things can be figured out. Deadlines can be pushed back

And it is not always easy,

but it is my firm belief that it is always,

always

worth it.

The post An unpopular post. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Which means that I had to get really clever, myself.

My daughter, the method actress, is enamored with Into the Woods.

We act out scenes from the musical every day, rotating parts; We watch clips from the movie and the staged version on Youtube and the XBox1; We sing every song.

So I know that she is completely obsessed

and with knowledge comes power.

You see, I have this insight because I am also a crazy musical theatre fan, and throughout my life, since I was two years old, I have been Dorothy, and Eponine, and Maureen and Amneris and Catherine and oh so many more characters that have gotten under my skin in a way that is impossible to describe to anyone who doesn’t know the feeling. It’s just one of those things.

This morning, I woke up at 10 after 7, when the baby let out his first cry of the day.

I got up slowly, bundled up in a hooded sweatshirt and when I opened my bedroom door and walked into the hallway I was greeted by a small girl with a large blanket, a makeshift cape around her shoulders and a hood on her head, skipping around.

“Oh, hell0,” said the girl. “I’m just on my way to my grandmother’s house but I seem to keep finding a wolf who actually looks like a man and he has candy.”

(At least she finally wised up and chose a better part than the “Baker Baby”.)

“And then, as I was getting a bouquet for granny, I heard Jack in the distance!” she continued.

So, we walked together into the baby’s room, and when we saw us, he flung himself down, theatrically, onto his back, so that he was sprawled out, crying in his crib. This is presumably because:

1. His daddy has been sick since Thursday (more on that, later), and my son misses him as he has been out of commission

and

2. I have two incredibly dramatic children.

Truth be told, I am tired. It is hard taking care of two children alone, all day, for many days in a row (mad props to all of the people who do this every day; I am in awe of single parents, parents and caregivers whose partners work long hours and anyone else who is tasked with this job regularly).

When we finally got the baby up and changed, the three of us headed downstairs for breakfast. As I was preparing the baby’s milk, the kids’ meals and trying to take care of the dog, I asked my daughter if she could bring Lola’s bowl over to me.

“Okay,” she started, “But let’s pretend that you didn’t really ask me to get Milky White his food but you just turned around and I was there with the bowl for Milky White’s food, like I thought of it on my own, and then you can say ‘Thank you, Little Red’. Can we do that?”

All the world’s a stage.

“Sure.”

So instead of having to run around like a chicken with my head

(or a maiden in a tower with her hair)

cut off, I was able to use a little creativity and the magic of musical theatre–something that has been so important to me in my life–something that I now see being so important to my daughter–to actually make life a little bit easier.

Little Red was happy to show The Wolf into the other part of the Woods, The Baker’s Wife was uncharacteristically allowed to leave the room for a second (because, spoiler alert: The Baker’s Wife does end up leaving) and Little Red was happy to let the dog in and out of the house (although it took Lola a bit longer to realize that she was supposed to come when she was being called “Milky White”).

All of this sounds great, and it was great, but I will admit one thing: While I figured out a way to occupy my daughter, who, in turn, entertained my son, I was spending time using a microplane to grate fresh carrot over Lola’s food.

One step at a time, I say.

(And, you know, it is very hard to take steps when there is pitch on the stairs.)

The post Milking it. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

My daughter was pressed up against her bedroom windowpane, her brother by her side, following her motions and mimicking her enthusiasm.

I was folding laundry on her floor, my husband was out picking up Chinese Takeout and the kids were playing on the chairs by the window in her bedroom that faces the street.

She was actually shouting, almost jumping, with excitement.

In this moment, she made it easy to keep my pledge to “cherish the mundane”.

I am so infinitely  grateful for the outpouring of support after I opened up yesterday.

The public “likes” and comments were so meaningful to me, and I thank you to those who shared my words with others. I am humbled.

But I am also supremely grateful for the private messages I received, and the incredibly personal stories that people shared with me. I heard amazing tales of strength and survival from people whom I have known for years and some whom I have not (yet!) met. But, in one such email, when we were bonding over difficulties of the past, I wrote something about how it is really sucky that sometimes we have be so lost in the darkness in order to really see stars; but that when we do, it all seems worth it.

And then, a few hours later, my daughter and son stood side by side, on an ordinary Sunday night, after an ordinary Sunday (a time when, truth be told, I did not get out of my pajamas) and she reminded me of exactly of what I had been trying to convey earlier. Yesterday was hard. It had to revisit my darkest days. But tonight,

tonight, my daughter saw the brilliance of the light outside of her window,

and it was all worth it, indeed.

The post To see the stars. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

So my daughter tells me things every day like:

“There was just a HUGE ghost in my room but I’m Daphne and I captured him with Shaggy!”

“It wasn’t me who dumped all of the straws out of the drawer, it was my baby, and I told him to stop, but he kept doing it, so I started to do it too.”

and

“I can really do the flip like the girl in the Sia video, mom. No, like really.”

So if you remember, last weekend I had some very special time with my friends, particularly in that we had an overnight guest who went from being one of my besties to being one of my daughter’s.

And the whole time that she was here my daughter kept saying something about, what I thought, was a “bamboozle challenge”. And she would take two things (not edible things, mind you) and say “Is this buttercream or diaper cream?” and we would “guess” (because she would be holding up a plastic ice cream cone and a piece of play dough) and she would tell us if we were right. It was kind of weird but cute and we all assumed that this was something that she had made up.

Imagine my surprise when at the pharmacy today (because my kids are still sick and now both need antibiotics) she found these:

A box of Beanboozled collection Jelly Belly jellybeans, which, evidently, are how you do the BEANboozle challenge. I could not believe that this actually existed.

So, here is how I think it works: You and friends or family members gather together and you are given a choice of two identical looking jelly beans. I will use as my example the first two flavors pictured on my box above, as that was my first challenge. So, you have to try to guess which one is the real Jelly Belly flavor and which one is the gross alternative. I find some of the flavors to be absolutely repulsive in thought, as I have not (yet) tasted them, including “Canned Dog Food”. “Barf” and “Booger”.

So, as I mentioned, I did the first challenge. My daughter had the whole thing down. Now let me just say that I still have no idea from where she learned about this challenge (is this what kids on the playground are talking about these days?!) but she instructed us. I was to take the two identical looking, speckled beans and she had my son holding a cup for me in case I chose wrong and got “Stinky Socks” instead of “Tutti Fruity”. (That part was admittedly super cute. He just sat there, holding a cup, having no idea what was going on with his crazy mom and sister.)

Well, wouldn’t you know that I got “Stinky socks” which tasted to me like rotten cheese. And I could not get the taste out of my mouth. So when I did eat the “Tutti Fruiti” flavored bean, it still tasted gross.

She was next. She chose the white jellybeans, which meant she would either get “Coconut” or “Baby Wipes”. She also chose wrong and, in solidarity, I tried the “Baby Wipes” flavor with her, because, you know, #yolo.

She was luckier on her second try, as she got “Berry Blue” instead of “Toothpaste”, and then we decided to call it a day. But don’t think that here won’t be more bamboozling going on around here tomorrow.

I should make it clear, I am in no way affiliated with the Jelly Belly brand. They are not my partners and they have no idea that I am writing this post. I am simply giving you, parents, caregivers, intoxicated college students, ideas for a fun activity to do when you’re a bit stir crazy in this cold (with these colds).

The funniest thing is that when I told my friend about the Beanboozle challenge she was also in disbelief that it actually exists. Well, perhaps I should start getting a care package together…

And for the record, I have never eaten a booger in my entire life. And I would prefer to keep that record going as long as possible. But who knows? I could get Beanboozled and then I lose one of my most powerful weapons in the game of “Never Have I Ever”.

Can’t wait to eat some “Skunk Spray” in the morrow.

Goodnight and sweet dreams (that is if you choose the right bean).

The post I’ve been beanboozled. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

She was so excited; she had missed her friends and teachers a lot.

We are two days in to the new year and, wouldn’t you know it, she is home sick again.

She woke up late last night, crying for me, and her temperature was 102.4.

After lots of snuggles, a back rub and Tylenol she went back to bed, but is home sick with me today.

So today was supposed to look like this:

That would be me blogging. I don’t think I have ever shared this before, but I have never worked at a desk (outside of being in class in school) in my entire life. I read and write from the bed or the couch or the floor or the car. Right now, I am writing from the third floor room that is currently transitioning from former-playroom to future-guest room.

But, instead of being able to put on my writer’s hat today,

this is how the day has actually looked:

Nice nod to my best guy.

I tried to make up for it with this:

We do what we can.

And when I called the doctor she asked me if the cough was wet or dry or raspy or barky.

I am a somewhat seasoned mom at this point, having had two kids with RSV, croup and both viral and bacterial infections of all kinds. But I am sorry, I cannot classify a cough that specifically unless you are going to play me Youtube clips of each different kind and ask me what sounds most like what is coming out of my daughter’s mouth.

Which means, a trip to the doctor.

Woo!

And pardon me, but I need to go now to deal with this:

So for now, I am forced to say A Farewell…

to the computer.

The post The temperature also rises. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

It was on Thursday, New Year’s Day, and one minute it was sending and receiving texts (despite being shattered and an eyesore) and the next minute the screen became completely dysfunctional. I could not use it at all, which meant that I could not swipe the screen to unlock my phone, as I watched the growing number of text messages that were coming in.

If this were a year ago, I think I would have had a panic attack at best or, more likely, a nuclear meltdown. I used to be very dependent on my phone, as it was my lifeline to the world (I thought).

Instead, I sent emails to the people with whom I was communicating, just so they would know I wasn’t ignoring their messages, and powered the thing down.

I made an appointment at the Apple store for late in the day Friday, but because I ended up being sick, I could not go. I made an appointment for Saturday afternoon, so that my husband could handle it for me. And on Friday, my friends helped me by taking care of my kids, my husband worked a full work day and, amazingly, I was still able to communicate with them, as well as the doctor whom I called, the nurse who called me back with advice, the pharmacy and several other people via email. I am someone with separation anxiety, so the idea of not being able to communicate with loved ones is a very scary one for me, but we found ways.

So, yesterday, my husband gave my phone to the people at Apple and they said it should be ready by 5pm. But guess what? We didn’t go out to pick it up. We will go at some point today.

That is right; I deliberately chose not to run for my phone the moment that it was ready for me;

Let me tell you why.

There were many times in the past few days when I have wanted to reach out to people quickly and easily, or snap a picture or log in to my Instagram; but instead of experiencing my children from behind the lens of my semi-decent 5c camera, I just lived with them. I savored the cute moments, and got used to watching them, as opposed to snapping their picture, editing it with the right filter and posting it for my friends (or the world) to see.

I was much more present.

While my friends spent time at my house, I did not think about how snap a photo of my daughter cuddling under the covers with our guest; I watched them, and smiled, and felt happy.

When my husband and I watched TV, I wasn’t busy looking down, responding to emails and checking newsfeeds.

Please do not let this come off as holier than thou. I will be picking up my iPhone in a matter of hours and I’m sure that I will go back into the fray, but I have to be honest; I found being phoneless extremely liberating.

Anyone who really needed me knew how to reach me. I wasn’t beholden to any thing.

This really struck me, as think I enjoyed the faces of my friends and family a little more this weekend.

Just this morning, I held my son as he fed himself his morning milk. He tried to find a position in which he could access the milk flow, but also nuzzle into me. My son, who is usually moving at a mile a minute, wanted to get close to me, and although that may seem like a given for most people, it is not for me.

Recently I wrote about adding our son to our family, and the love we all have for him. Just last night I was talking to my husband about it, as the combination of not having a phone and spending a couple of days in bed has given me a lot more time to think and reflect. I was thinking about that thing that people always say, about how they didn’t know how they could possibly have any more love, but then, as soon as their next child was born, their hearts grew instantly. It’s like a thing.

But for me, I have to be honest, I don’t feel that way. I don’t feel as though I now have more love than I did before.

Please do not misinterpret me. I love and cherish my son; I find him to be extremely cute and silly and loving and hilarious and he has taught me to be stronger and braver than I ever thought possible.

But, as I said to my husband last night, I feel like the love for him was always there, in me. It was just waiting for him. My heart did not grow when he was born; he just filled the space that it had reserved for his presence.

I know this is an odd perspective on things, and I can assure you with great confidence that I do not have less love in me than others; in fact, I have been told that I am a walking heart, brimming with love.

I think that I feel emotions more deeply than the majority of others. I don’t wish to sound cliched or insincere, but it is definitely a blessing and a curse to feel the amount of passion and adoration and intensity that I do, as there is a flip side, where my lows can get pretty low. I am sensitive, get hurt easily and deeply and hold onto pain that perhaps others can compartmentalize or shed.

The way I felt this morning, when my son tried to find my nook in which to rest his head…

I don’t even have the worst to describe the swell I feel inside my chest right now.

After finishing his milk, he and his sister played a little bit with some toys, before discovering an enormous cardboard delivery box in our entry way (our Amazon subscription fulfilment) and they crawled in an did all of the things that children do with a cardboard box. They had the best time together, squealing with laughter. And I didn’t even think to reach for my phone to snap a picture of their cuteness. I just watched, savoring this moment, branding it to my memory.

Now, I am guilty of sitting in front a screen while my children play. In fact, my daughter asked what I was doing and I said, “I am blogging.” and she said, “Oh. Mommy, Ever After?” as I recently explained to her what it is that I do.

But I have put down the laptop several times to watch them, to answer their questions, and to thank my daughter when she walked past me and said, “You look very beautiful. Well, you are my mom.”

I am going to try to be better about this moving forward, as I will certainly feel the itch to snap and share once I have my phone back (though J and my husband have decided that I am strictly forbidden from using my phone until it has one of those crazy, bulky protective cases).

Now, this is in direct conflict with the blog and brand I am trying to build; I constantly need to snap featured images for my posts, and sometimes that takes time, as you may have noticed, on my public site and Instagram account I do not post photos of their faces, but instead, they are a bit hidden.

(By the way, I realize that I broke my cardinal rule in the featured photo of myself of my site, as I asked the tech people at Brand Revive if they could “please Photoshop out the baby from that picture?”, which I guess they could not, as there is a baby on my lap, but you don’t know if that is my baby or a stunt baby, so I feel a bit less disloyal to myself.)

But I am going to try to snap the cute or funny or powerful photos when I see the moments happening, and then put down the phone. I can edit them later. They can wait to be posted.

I said that I was going to strive to be a better person, and while I am not attaching any value judgement to the use of smartphones and screens in child rearing, for me, I truly am not, I know that for me, personally, I am able to be more attentive when I am not trying to type and post.

And on that note, my kids are playing together with a cardboard princess castle and I am going to sit on the floor and join them, with my lap top closed and put away.

And since I typed that last sentence, they started to fight over the castle.

But this is life, folks. And I have to live it.

No. Let me correct that.

I want to.

The post i’MHERE. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Patience, my dear ones. For I am off to a happy place, where I will be celebrating my 8th Engagemaversary in that very same spot.

…is what I had written, yesterday,

prepared to publish today,

as I would now be off to St. John, via St. Thomas, with my entire family; Parents, siblings, kids…

It’s funny. Just last week, Jordan said, “The way to virtually guarantee that a child will get sick is to schedule something that you really want to do.”

And it has been no secret that we have been sickie little chickies in my house for the past month.

But weeks of sick days and doctor visits all kind of came to a head yesterday when I crashed, unexpectedly, at 3pm, woke up two hours later in excruciating ear pain. I have been suffering from TMJ on my right side, but this pain was on my left. And I couldn’t hear out of my ear. Weird.

So, I shook the sleep out of my head and rallied to give the baby his nighttime bottle, give my daughter her kiss goodnight, and I told my husband that something wasn’t right. All of the local urgent care facilities were closed and all my doctor besties were stuck without otoscopes (I just wanted to see if I was crazy), so we found a Care Stat location a little ways away and I got checked out.

I told the doctor about my TMJ. “First let me look at your right ear, or your ‘good ear’,” she said.

“Yup, this ear is infected.”

Then she moved onto my left.

And all she said was, “Whoa.”

That’s never what you want to hear from a doctor.

So I have a double ear infection, but on my left side it is pretty severe, and I am prohibited from flying for a week. Which means that we had to cancel our trip to our happy place.

It’s ok. I was most disappointed for my daughter and parents, but we have made alternate arrangements so that my kids will be taken away on a fun family trip, just the four of us, that involves driving, and no change in elevation that will perforate my eardrum.

I walked out of the urgent care office, into the Krispie Kreme two doors down, and ate a hot glazed doughnut right off of the conveyer belt. Because, really, what else was there to do?

So, I will continue where I had left off yesterday before this all went down (when I thought I would be leaving you for St. John):

Please don’t think I would leave you hanging. Oh no.

Because we have some big changes on the not so distant horizon; my home for the past 4.5 years,

www.mommyeverafter.wordpress.com,

just got quite the makeover. We are moving on up people.

Very soon, this blog will be located at…

www.mommyeverafter.com

You can visit the site to countdown to our big launch on December 22. There will be ads! There will be new categories! There will be a feathers! This is forrealz.

And I realize that my audience here is mixed; some of you have been here from the beginning, while others are newer to the land of mom. So I am leaving you with some old favorites. And the fun thing is, they lead you to other old posts. You have almost 900 of ‘em to wade through as I wade through the ocean. (Editor’s note: I don’t even have to say it. Frowny face.)

Let me take this opportunity to say thank you.

This past year (and I am getting choked up) has been the hardest in my life; I am so grateful for the support I have received from YOU. You have empowered me to tell me story and motivated me to help others. Thank you. I would not be here without you.

So here you go. I’ll be popping in here and there over the next week, but to tide you over:

Something motivational

Something sweet

Something musical

Something nostalgic

Something comprehensive

Some Important Insight

The craziest call to the pediatrican ever. (Really, ever.)

The second craziest call to the pediatrican,, ever. And it’s a close second.

Something Happy.

Something Hard.

Something Hopeful.

See you on the flip side at www.mommyeverafter.com,

the home of everything ever after.

The post Stay Tuned and Get Pumped! (is what I was going to say.) appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I am endlessly grateful that it has just been some lingering respiratory things and maybe a touch of the stomach flu,

as it is almost the one year anniversary of our week in the hospital with a sick 2 month old with RSV. That was also the worst time in my entire life.

So while this week has been less than desirable, I can’t even call it bad.

There were playdates that had to be cancelled and there was food that couldn’t be eaten and I was up a lot of the past two nights listening to my daughter cough and cough.

But her spirits have been great, and I savored the days of cuddling.

I spent the entirety of Sunday in my pajamas. We played with baby dolls and a doctor’s kit and magnatiles and her hair and I even got her to sit with me for five minutes of this past week’s Grey’s Anatomy that I still have not been able to catch up on. (Don’t judge!)

But the highlight of the weekend was most definitely the music. We used the XBox 1 app that is attached to our big living room TV to play both XBox radio and YouTube videos, and got to go through a great array of music, from spooky to hip hop to holiday.

And then, we stumbled upon the holy grail: Idina Menzel and Michael Buble singing “Baby it’s Cold Outside”, as child actors mouth the words and dance along in a twenties style extravaganza. My daughter was hooked in three seconds.

This was awesome for so many reasons, not the least of which being that I now finally have someone with whom I can sing the duet. She makes me be the boy, but whatever.

We must have watched this adorable music video 15 times over the past two days. We hummed around the house. She even sat in the bathroom as I took a shower so that she could get the benefits from the steam and we practiced the duet from over the glass shower door.

So despite the frigid temps and the horrid cough, we were still able to muster up the strength for an ottoman stage performance, in our pjs, and it was the bright spot in an otherwise dreary week.

Things right now may be slightly less than ideal–and I struggle with keeping my glass half full–but I got to spend a few minutes on a freezing Sunday night in November with my two kids in my arms, dancing to holiday music.

This time last year, that would have been an impossibility.

For this, I am grateful; I am warm.

The post Baby it’s Cold Outside. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

(except, if you mean temperature hot, which I do, a little).

Throughout the past four and a half years I have written about so many sick days; the time that my baby had her first fever and my husband was traveling across the country; the time when my husband had such severe strep that he was shivering in bed for days; recently, when my kids and I napped together and they woke up holding hands; and the general theme is that sick days are pretty crappy.

First and foremost, sick days are bad because it means that a kid or two is sick. And a sick kid is sad! Two sick kids are even sadder. I never want my kids to feel discomfort or pain, so I feel terrible when they are ill.

And some days sick days are tough, because it means juggling schedules and rescheduling appointments and finding childcare coverage. Today I had to cancel with the jaw chiropracter, just as we are starting to make real progress. So, not ideal.

And then there is the whole “What in the world am I going to do with two kids for twelve hours while they are cooped up indoors, sneezing, coughing and/or vomiting?”

But, the thing is, my kids now figure that part out for themselves. They worked as a team, their team.

As I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, they built a train.

My daughter was the conductor (of course) and she told me that we were going to visit my sister in “Meyork City”.

I hopped on board.

And for a few minutes it didn’t really matter that her nose was running, and it didn’t really matter that there were some dishes in the sink or crumbs on the table,

I just felt so proud of my kids.

I feel honored when they let me join their team–when I can wear their pinny–and play along.

So we still have 8 hours until bedtime, but so far this sick day isn’t so bad. Not really at all.

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