Oh yes, as you can see, the very day after an extremely summery and lovely solstice, we have a baby with a broken limb.  An ordinary fall, one that has occurred thousands of times between three boys, off the kitchen stool resulted in very extraordinary results.  Lots of tears, a full day at the hospital, and more to come, and here we are.  Oh this parenting gig, it is never, ever dull.  It is never, ever easy.  I am digging deep in order to maintain sanity at the moment.  Finding ways to keep the biggest boys occupied, even when every grain of my being is saying, “Why am I finding ways to keep them busy?  Is that not their job as a child?”, only to be heftily reminded that they too are feeling the stress, and anxiety around having a loved one injured and needy.  And in turn are needy themselves.  I can foresee a lot of dishes and laundry piled up this week as we find out what is next for this chubby little elbow.  What am trying to do sink into it all, out of fear that if I don’t I will explode.  I am trying to be grateful for the little wet cheek that only wants to be pressed against mine.  For the hours spent reading books on the couch, even though the sun is shining.  For the crafts at the table with a baby on my lap.  For the time where, as a survival rule, I must dedicate my hours to them fully.