Let The Tortillas Burn

It's been a rather crap-tastic week in our household.  I won't lie.

Someone, or multiple someones, have been ill since last Thursday.  Sometimes violently.  Thankfully (?) that was only in my case. 

We were scheduled to have the tubes put in Naomi's ears yesterday, but as she was the first to descend into the abyss of illness, it has been postponed until March.  Now, she has a sinus infection.  I wasn't even aware that babies had sinuses.  In truth, they don't.  But toddlers do.  And in her amazing trifecta of clogged ears, tiny eustacean tubes and brand new, non-draining sinuses, she is a seething pit of infection.  Does that sound harsh?  She's a tiny ball of adorable goopiness, then.  So, antibiotics.  Again.  And we're not *$^%ing around this time.  She's staying on them until the day of her surgery.  Doctor's orders, not mine, though I did ask the pharmacist if they sold bubbles.

With microbes plotting our demise at every turn, happy moments have been a little farther and fewer between than I would prefer.

But, tonight, a reprieve.

I was madly preparing an overly-complicated dinner (one that I was supposed to make for Dinner Swap this week and I wasn't about to let all the ingredients go to waste) and William was entertaining two relatively happy girls upstairs.  When things had gotten close enough to warrant bringing the hoarde downstairs, I was instead beckoned up.  What I found there were two naked babies in Lillian's crib, leaping and jumping and counting and laughing.  It was easy to stand there and take it all in, laughing along.  It was a great reason to let the tortillas on the stovetop scorch.