Last week was one of those time periods that make you want to crawl under the covers and bawl for an hour straight, until there's nothing left in you to feel. My poor, brand-spanking-new kindergartner wet her pants at her new school (huh? surely you have the wrong kid, she's NEVER done that, not since she was a toddler), my parents moved into our house, Joe's favorite aunt died after a long battle with breast cancer, and I fell off a retaining wall onto my pregnant stomach. It was a true trial of our patience and stability.
But, we had a peanut butter banana crunch bagel, at Panera and instantly things are looking up. My dad moved my parents' stuff into the new house they rented. My daughter look so damn smart and athletic in her new little soccer uniform. The doctor said everything seemed fine with the baby (150 heartbeats per minute), and hopefully we'll find out the sex of little Jack/Charlotte this Friday. I'll keep you posted, post toasties (as my paternal grandfather called the bland cereal we ate regularly at the farm, covered in so much sugar the grains of sugar crunch in your teeth under the soggy flakes).