After the burst of glowey beautiful happiness that was the birth of Nathaniel Grey, August settled into a sullen, unmovable pout.
It rained. A lot.
Our basement flooded. Not from the rain. Poop soup, as Wyatt says. Our sewer main backed up. Insurance, and carpet ripped out, and our entire family banished to only the upstairs of our house.
School started. It should have been a reprieve from the chaos. Instead it only compounded it. No more sleeping in. No more lounging around the house. Schedules. Routines. Things that Must Be Done.
The kids got sick. Hand-Foot-And-Mouth for Everett and Roo. It’s going around, as they say. To date kids in six families in our ward have had it. Thankfully, not little Nate though.
Olivia had strep throat. Poor baby goose, she was so sad for two days, and even watching movies and eating popsicles and missing school couldn’t cheer her up.
On the first Tuesday after school started I kept the kids home from school so we could go to the Museum of Natural Curiousity (this was before sickness).
Wyatt was gone . . . a lot. Between the cabin projects (after the kitchen he decided to add on to the bathroom), and clients, we’ve barely seen him the past two weeks.
But August ended well – a weekend at the cabin, where we ate waffles and watched movies in the rain, and went on walks in the mud, and canoed on a silvery-golden lake.