We, as parents, have to don the occasional Super Hero Cape. Some would argue that we wear our capes on a daily basis, as we pack lunches, kiss boo boos, and cheer from the sidelines. And, I would agree. To some extent. But, let me tell you, I am ecstatic to shed mine in exchange for my bathrobe and a cup of coffee. To hang it up right next to our five month hospital stay. To tuck it away in the back of the drawer and leave it there for a good long while, worn and ragged from months of use.
Here's a legit Super Hero. He wears his cape, er, shell, by choice.
On that regular, old Monday morning in November, no one told me that I would be performing Super Hero duties for the next five months. That, in reflecting, I would wonder how bills got paid, how we didn't die of starvation from lack of grocery shopping, or how we managed to function on little sleep, lots of stress, and an overwhelming love for our son and daughter. Hard to believe menial tasks like that are considered Super Human, but they really seem quite monumental when much of your mind strength is devoted to considering sickness, life support, and sometimes even death, on a daily basis.
So, I'm feeling human again.
My house is messy. There are Legos everywhere. Sometimes diapers. Mounds of laundry. A whole room devoted to medical supplies. There are IV bags in my refrigerator and an IV pole we tote around the house. We had a whole dinner consisting of cheesy bread one night, though I did insist Becks have a fruit cup and some yogurt, too. There is a half-eaten lunch plate still taking residence on the kitchen table. Yet, baby life is crazy and good.
And, I get to drink coffee in my bathrobe. Not my Super Hero Cape.
I kinda like it. Not even kinda. I REALLY like it.