When Cubby and Charlie's friends showed up yesterday for a playdate, their mother was quite candid that, why yes, winter break has sucked royally at their house as well. AND, she had a huge bandage on her right hand, covering the 12 stitches she had to get after falling down their stairs on Saturday and ripping her hand open.
She has three kids too, roughly the ages of mine. Those kids do not care if you have an injury; they still demand milk and carrying and everything else.
So I may have three continuously screaming children, but at least I don't have twelve stitches in my hand.
Then, this morning, I got an e-mail cancelling today's playdate with a different family because the baby of the family (almost exactly Jack's age) has some kind of nasty croup thing that's keeping everyone awake at night and her mother really didn't want Jack to catch it. She had to cancel.
So I may STILL have three continuously screaming children, but at least I don't have an exhausted, croupy baby who's keeping me awake all night.
Perspective is a wonderful thing.