This morning when I picked up Oliver from school, he walked outside and said, "The whole world is melting!"
It is. People are outside shoveling waves of slush-water out of their driveways. Colin stepped in lake-sized puddles, soaking his shoes and jeans. A robin bathed in the middle of the road. On the drive home, I sped through the water on the sides of the road for the fun of it, giant tsunamis soaring up past the kids' windows.
By the time we got to our driveway, Colin was having such a good time shouting "Splash! Splash! Oh no!" that I drove around the block once more. Just for fun.
I am finally starting to get things done around here. People aren't sick anymore. There are no more medications to administer. No more piles of disgusting sick linens to wash. I still occasionally throw up and I still get dizzy when standing up and bending over, but I'm feeling pretty good. I've started making a few dinners here and there. We bought new furniture and got it set up in the living room. I designated some boxes of junk for Goodwill. I set up a list of things we have to buy for the new baby and/or transition to the boys sharing a bedroom. I ordered new plants to replace the dead/ugly specimens in the yard.
After two long years, we took down the baby gate at the top of the steps. It feels like our whole house suddenly opened up. I can carry a laundry basket up the stairs without fussing with the gate. I can walk in the front door with arms full of groceries and just walk right into the house. It seems so much more welcoming. I didn't even notice how oppressive that stupid baby gate felt, but by its absence I have been freed. Silly, isn't it? How liberating it can be to take down a baby gate?
But anyway. I guess my point is that if you want to come over now and enjoy our new couches, you can. Colin and Oliver sure are.