Woody and Harry. My buffers between the chilly floor and my feet. Without them the countless trips up and down all the stairs in my house would be boring. The little frogs’ arms waving wildly as I run up and down the stairs to check temperatures, administer medicine, clean up the vomit in my six and eight year olds’ room (that my two year old stepped in), and remind me not to take life too seriously. This too shall pass.
It’s snowing out – nothing massive, just messy and annoying. In the backyard, our pool stands lonely, abandoned, a bit of the covered still visible through the white stuff. Ghost laughter from the memories of the summers we spent around that pool seem to echo in my ears. Barbecues, parties, hiking trips through the “enchanted forest” behind our house – so many fantastic memories. Woody and Harry and Bob and I had another private grown-up moment while the girls continue to recuperate and there’s a lull in their insistent demands…er polite requests. Time for another pep talk from Randi on skype. Continue reading