In a picture, today was sort of like this:
Of course, as it always is, it didn't start out like that. We went to gymnastics, and I wrangled Teebs for the 45 minutes that Bub has the time of his life. I gave him snacks, milk, and toddled behind him, step by step, as he went up stairs and down stairs and I promised that bigger things were to come for this day.
And they did.
We went to Bub's favorite park. After so much begging and whining, but we went. And everyone was happy, and for about seven minutes I thought "Ah, our day is perfect, everyone is thrilled, the needs of these boys are met."
And then Teebs walked into the lake. Literally, walked into the lake at the park. And the mud and the wetness and the screaming of "wa wa! wa wa!" demanded that we go home. NOW. So, not willing to give up on the whole day yet, we swung by my parents' house on the way home, picked up their garden hose (as ours is still in storage after the move) and made THIS happen:
And, thank goodness, everyone was happy.
Bub was happy.
Teeber was happy.
Thank goodness. We all were happy.
There are so many days when I give up, succumb to the failure of whines and lost tempers, that these sacred days of almost disasters have to be treasured.
We almost lost it, the beauty of today, but not quite.
We pulled together.
We pulled together.
We pulled together like that last gasp of air sucked into your lungs before diving under (five inches) of water.
And those days, those almost failure kind of days, those tend to be my favorite. Because I appreciate them the very most. I give extra hard hugs and extra firm kisses at the end of these days. Because I've earned my extra patience. And the boys appreciate it, I know they do, they appreciate the extra-ness of these extra special days. The days that were almost lost, these are our extra good days.
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