The Hubby and I woke up to this today.
My first reaction was a minor moment of panic and frustration.
We're back here.
For the last few months things had been stable. Behaviour had leveled out and the bumps were minor.
But the last two weeks have seen The Prince stumble backwards, quickly.
I'm not foolish. I am well aware that there are the good days and the bad days. It's just that the last four years had been like childbirth. You know, where you look back on the agony of those hours of labour and rather than feeling the pains and exhaustion you simply remember the moment those little eyes stared back at yours for the very first time.
When life is calm I can forget the fighting and the concern and the confusion of dealing with the unknown. My brain refuses to go there.
And yet, like childbirth, it only takes a small trigger (like cramps) to remember why it's called labour.
This morning, walking downstairs to lined up Tupperware and paper plates was my trigger for pain.
We're not through this yet. Will we ever be?
Alas, in spite of the doom and gloom in my head, the sun did shine and I trotted off with The Kiddos to spend a couple of hours running around in the fresh air, having a much needed gab with some friends in between pushing The Princess on the swing set and making sure The Prince didn't jump off the nine foot tall jungle gym.
Today I needed that. To feel like I can breathe, because some days are harder than others.