One full week has passed since my last blog post.
That is not remarkable. What is remarkable is that it has only been a week because it has felt like A THOUSAND DAYS.
A thousand days filled with goo and blurry vision and itchy eyes.
That's right. Our house has been infiltrated. Infiltrated by conjunctivitis. Pink eye by another name.
Somehow we have avoided pink eye until now, six and a half years into this kid thing. I have no idea how we missed this swinging axe but we did.
But this week three of us have fallen. I am the one currently sporting the eyes that make me look like (a) I just had a wicked cry, (b) I was heavily in the sauce last night, or (c) I have pink eye.
This morning at church I was telling someone about Emily's ongoing issues with public performance and how she still often breaks down when confronted with having to stand in front of a crowd and do something (I've talked about this before here and while it is still an issue that we deal with, it is in fact getting better). The person who I was talking to gave me a shoulder squeeze and said "Oh, poor you... it's okay."
Which I thought was really nice, but sort of weird too.
And as I walked away it dawned on me that my flaming and drippy eyes totally made it seem as though I'd just spent the last 30 minutes crying, in fact sobbing uncontrollably, about the fact that my six-year-old wouldn't sing in the choir.
Um, yeah, so who looks like the weird one now? Yeah, that'd be me.
Oh, so the next question you are probably asking is why I was at church when I had a raging case of pink eye.
Because I've made it my mission this week to use my infectious family to spread the pink eye love all over Ottawa, THAT'S WHY!