Ian and I have been sick for a good LONG week. He got it first and was sick all weekend. Dad got it on Sunday and I got it on Monday. Head cold from Hell.

It’s Friday. I haven’t worked out since Monday (and this is dangerous times as my “happy pill” comes in the form of exercise-induced endorphins), I hate my new haircut, my throat is raw and my nose feels like I’ve snorted a bag of lint. I was not a zen mama. We rotted in front of Curious George, and I ate all Ian’s meals after he refused them. We were both in dirty sweats and had daily meltdowns.

But not today. Today is Friday, dammit. Today mama felt well enough to venture out and Ian was a solid 90%. I prayed the entire drive that we have a “pleasant experience.” My prayers were answered. Easy parking, bright sun mixed with dramatic clouds, and most important, a new friend! They met at the beginning of the pier, took one look at each other, and took off running. He was with his grandma who was visiting from Chicago because he was a new big brother (baby girl born last week). We had such fun, ate an apple while watching the waves crash, and only cried once when mama wouldn’t let him walk without my hand in the parking lot. I’m trying my best over here.