This morning was an excellent, easy morning.
The girls got up and dressed for ice skating without a hitch. Kyra composed herself into her future 27 year old, responsible adult who spoke kind words, helped others and was an overall angel sent down from heaven. Lydia surprised us all at the rink by not only getting on the ice with out even a hint of the complete meltdown of a tantrum, but she seemed like the same ice skating little girl I knew, and swore to all the parents who've tried to help me tame her these past five weeks, that this is how she really behaved back in the Arctic Tundra, first one on the ice and hamming it up, from the beginning of class to the end.
I had a bit of wallowing week as I hemmed and hawed over what to do for Thanksgiving. I'd love nothing more than to spend it with the people I'm most comfortable with, my very best friends, in the Land of the CornHusker. And I feel an immense amount of guilt for having not traveled to the Land of the Country Bumpkin to introduce the family to Ruby. But, sometimes, I have to be honest with myself. I'm not mentally, or physically, there yet. I'm not to the point of extended travel vacations. I'm not ready for a three day drive and boarding dogs and worrying about Lydia safe food. I'm not up for family dramas, remarks over who's house I'm staying in, walking on egg shells to keep everyone happy.
I'm still sleep deprived. I'm still emotional. I'm still getting a firm handle of this whole situation. And while I've a much stronger grip than I did 7 weeks ago, I'm still aware of how quickly my palms get sweaty and my grasp starts to slip. Right now, I still need my time to escape to my room for a quick breath of fresh air.
While the crazy days are short and the lonely nights are long, I need to record today.
Today, we not only had a good day, we had a great day. As ordinary and mundane as it may be, today was a great day.