It's been a sorry week in the wellness area for this Harrington household. The rugby team is kind to Chris and lets him play even though he is geriatric compared to the undergrads ... undergrads who have called me Mrs. Harrington when on the sideline, ha! Anyway he played in the game last Friday night, and it was not a kind game to him at all. Then the week started, and I could tell my lower back was going as it does twice a year. Tuesday and Wednesday I alternated between crawling around or, when I was feeling sprightly, walking with my upper body bent almost parallel to the floor ... super interesting conundrum with two toddlers who love their time perched on my hip. When I was finally on the mend, Conor fell into the (rounded) corner of a little toddler chair, and he is now sporting a slightly black eye. Poor guy. Maybe he wants to look like a rugby player? Ryan saved the worst for last with his 3am announcement of, "I frew up," which lead to all of us in our bed. Conor nursed the rest of the night, and Ryan was tucked into me with his head on my shoulder. When Chris woke up at 6am, he said they looked liked opossum babies hanging off of me. I didn't really understand until I saw this photo:
And I feel like the look in her eyes is telling me, "Solidarity, Girl."
(Ryan has been feeling well all day! Two thumbs up).
So it has been a week, but today is now a wonderful day even though you wouldn't think so judging from last night's pajamas never leaving my body today. For right before bed, after pausing from scaling every structure in the room and while stubbornly trying to pull his freshly donned pajamas off so he could "sweep in his un-duh-wear," Ryan looked at the giggling and screeching Conor waddling around, fueled by that last gust of slap-happy energy, a few slow steps here, some fast steps there, a teeter here, a totter there. Ryan let out a little toddler guffaw and contently sighed, "He's my fwiend."
Good day. Good week.