Some weeks are heavy. This was one of them. It’s the only word I can use to describe it.

We were taking today about how we bought McKenna a bike a few weeks ago. Wrong. That was last weekend. Just seven days ago. Yet since then, it feels like I have lived a lifetime.

There were appointments and work obligations. 

There were moments of sadness and those of paralyzing fear. 

There were deeply unsettling conversations and so many questions from a kid who hears everything but is still just a 9 (almost 10) year old. 

There were more unexpected home repairs. 

There was a sick kiddo and an unwell mama. 

There was juggling of cars for repairs. 

There was so. much. driving. 

There was the planning, registering and, and payment of summer camps. 

There was a fucking spirit week AND leprechaun traps. 

And through it all, life still had to be led with kids off to school, lunches to be packed, homework to be completed, and permission slips to be signed. Dinner still needed to be made and floors needed vacuuming.  

And yet there were also morning cuddles. 

There were books read and songs sung. 

There were basketball games played and trophies received. 

There were ballet routines mastered. 

There were pizza parties and McDonald’s meetups. 

There were unplanned playdates and independent bike rides to the park. 

There was outside playtime. 

There were family dinners and Sunday with Great Grandpa. 

There was an unplanned lunch date with my husband, a planned one with a friend and a dinner date with framiliy. 

There were new skills taught and learned. 

There was a forgotten raffle won.

Finding the joy when your days are the heaviest helps to make the load lighter. I’m not sure I could have carried it all without the joyful glimmers tossed in with the weight of it all.

I am writing for the 18th annual Slice of Life challenge presented by Two Writing Teachers.