Today was rough. I went to bed too late in a desperate attempt to just have a few moments alone. I knitted until my eyes were blurry with exhaustion. At eight, Camille started to cry and moan because her stomach hurt. She woke up everyone. After she threw up, we all managed to go back to sleep. That should have been a sign of a wonderful day to come but it was not. R is in some kind of stage where she hates everything. She doesn't want to sleep, nurse, play, be in my lap, or carried in the Mei Tai. She whined all day long until I wanted to sob in utter frustration. Poor Piper is utterly neglected and sat around looking dejected which breaks my heart. The older two kids needed to do school. The house was trashed. And I just didn't have the energy to deal with any of it. I wanted to lay in my bed with the covers over my head and just sleep or cry or be still.
As I was getting ready to go shopping, I came across a lovely sock buried in the mound of clean laundry that dominates my bedroom. It's a blue/gray wool sock. A deliciously warm sock that I love wearing on these rare cold nights in the South. This sock came in unexpectedly in the mail on day with a little note from a friend announcing that it was a surprise pair of socks. I smiled then too because it came at a time when I was feeling a bit like how I felt today. The thought that my friend knit these socks and then thought of me made more than my feet feel warm. Today as I held that sock I remember that I am not alone.