This was last week:
A harried just-before-closing trip to the pediatrician revealed that it was just a cold. I’ll be honest, there is no “just a cold” with your last baby, even though she isn’t really a baby anymore. There is no “just a cold” when the margins are so whisper thing at home and work. There is no “just a cold” when the coughing in the night brings gagging, weeping and more durations of sleep measured in minutes rather than hours.
I left feeling sheepish, angry and filled with a relief that made tears threaten. 48 hours later we bundled up for a play date with friends unafraid of “just a cold,” later the same day the grandparents arrived; both events had us all falling over ourselves to occupy the space inside of the delight. We shucked our worry and our whining, and peeled everything back but the gratitude to be with people who enjoy us and love us.
Sitting here today thinking that time with friends and family is just right.
yep, just right. glad she’s feeling better.
poor little bit, glad she’s doing better
I hate when their answer is “just a cold”.
So glad she perked up for the fun!