I started the day strong.
I got the kids to school early, took the dog for a walk/run, cleaned, did moving prep, fought the urge to nap, worked in the yard, made homemade meals, greeted the kids with cupcakes, and almost got everyone everywhere on time for the evening. Yet, I could feel the sad mad grumps setting in around 6:00.
Brig is gone M-F now and I knew I needed to suck it up until bedtime. I knew I wasn’t going to get the dishes washed by hand that need it, or the last of the laundry folded. I collapsed on the couch after bedtime and wished the ache away. Yesterday was so wonderful, but today, today I have five kiddos who are now all a birthday older than they were when Bub died. And he’s still 2. And there’s so much to his story that I want to shout to the world when I feel like this, but that’s not his legacy.