Sometimes your kids get sick and it’s no fun. I think the most surprising part about my kids interrupting my sleep with vomiting/the big D/midnight cleanup is how much harder it is for me to recover from. I used to get up with my kids once or twice and night and still be able to function somewhat. Now, it takes me a week to re-establish homeostasis.
36 is calling. I have about a month left of being 35 and then I’m on the downhill slope to 40. I can’t believe it. I’ve accomplished a few goals, but it’s becoming clearer to me that my body is aging. I don’t bounce back the way I used to – pretty much all the way around. But the one thing that is clear to me at this point is that I want to be strong. I see shirts that say Strong is the New Skinny. I don’t really like shirts with sayings on them, but that’s one I dig. I can run marathons, but am I strong? No. I’m trying to change that. Because I want to be around to play with my kids. I don’t need any more medals or physical feats, but I do need the health to keep up with my son when he finally shoots up taller than me and begs me to hurry up when we hike Yosemite one day.
Brooks is about to turn 5. It’s two steps forward and one step back with that kid, but he’s really getting to be fun. He’s his own little dude and we are just falling more in love with him. I look forward to the day Sabra is no longer a three-nager, but we are mad about her, too. Also, it should be noted that she got to ride a unicorn at a birthday party this weekend.
And, ultimately, I want my kids to be strong – inside and out. Hopefully I will be part of teaching them those things and pointing them heavenward where I fall short. And yet they will still get sick. And so will I. We will lose sleep and have hurdles our whole lives. My prayer is that we would look to the ultimate Healer to make us whole.