But this year, about a week before Valentine’s Day (at Xander’s birthday party– sorry, you are getting temporarily neglected, Xander), the plague started spreading through the family.
Not the actual plague (obviously, or you would have read about it on your newsfeed), but a miserable cold that turned to pneumonia for some and simply made everyone else feel wretched. Coughing, headaches, fever, so many Kleenexes. I had a few days where I could barely crawl out of bed.
We kept up a lively family text discussing our symptoms, canceling and rescheduling everything in our lives. For a bit, a family party seemed impossible.
Yet, on Valentine’s Day, I awoke with just enough energy to put on a party. And since, we were all in different stages of the same illness, everyone agreed to come. (Except Hansie, who we miss all the time, but he loves med school.)
One by one, I went through the hundreds of little tasks to put on a party. If you’re a mom, you know exactly what I’m talking about: the tiny things that don’t seem to matter, but they really do.
And no, we didn’t make Valentines this year. And we didn’t deliver treats to neighbors (well, maybe just one plate of cookies…). We were all too drained to do much more than gather for the familiar routine of dinner, cake, and presents.
Stefan stole the show by writing and printing a board book for Ben called, “So Your Daddy is a Lawyer.” It was hilarious and sweet. I promise to add a photo.
By 7:30 pm, we are all exhausted, and went our separate ways. To our own boxes of Kleenex, herbal remedies and NyQuil. It was worth the effort; it was beautiful.