Three hours? Huh.

Brian took Elijah with him to D&D tonight, because I had a terrible day between migraine, joint pain, and Elijah's teething. I'd had plans to spend a lot of time focusing on Elijah and teaching him more signs and words and playing with him, and then I just plain couldn't, it was all I could do to keep him fed and vaguely occupied and try to eat something myself and not fall over. I was falling apart when Brian got home, so he plied me with Italian food (the migraine let up a little sometime during dinner, enough at least for me to think--the joint pain is still there at the moment, though) and then took the babyface away for the evening.

I had three hours to myself--that hasn't happened for a few months, since Aunt Dani took the boy while I was sick. And I couldn't exactly enjoy it then.

Three hours! It felt like longer, which is odd. Usually I'm desperate for more time, but this time I got to the point where I wanted my boys back. That's good. That's a turning point for me.

I had a clove, talked to my mom, tidied up some toys, had a bath and a shave, read a book, and watched more Supernanny. Seems like a lot. It was nice and relaxing and helpful and awesome.

And Brian returned with glorious stories of how much everyone loved Elijah and how well-behaved he was.

So a bad day turned into a good night.

Thank you.