If that's not the actual Elton John lyric, please don't disillusion me.
Things were getting worse day by day. Chris was in Australia. With two sick kids, a screaming baby, and just generally being totally overwhelmed, overtired and miserable, I was heading to bed around midnight.
Vaughn has started "school", actually a school readiness program, so it's a bit of a dash to get all of us dressed and out the door by 8:40 every morning. With the winter weather we've been having, I've been juggling naptimes for Tamsin with outdoor playtimes for the kids (ie. shovelling the driveway time), and had had enough.
I decided to try to reconnect with the gratitude exercises that helped get me through the Summer of Bed Rest. But I'm so frickin' tired, I thought. Ailsa has woken up crying twice already, Vaughn has gotten up once, screaming and coughing, and it won't be the last time tonight. And Tamsin will be up for a feed in half an hour. What can I be thankful for?
I started making a little list. Overall, good health for all of us. A nice house (which is getting nicer, thanks to my dad). Support from my parents. Good friends. Enough money to not worry too much.
At that moment, I heard the plow going up my street.
Oh God, I thought. It's too much. I can't do this. I can't get up even earlier and shovel us out. I just can't.
I peeked through the blinds and saw the plow at the foot of my driveway.
It scooped up the snowdrift that it had created, and drove away with it, leaving my driveway clear. The kids kicked into self-preservation mode, and all of them (yes, all three) slept until 7 am.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Sugarbear, you're the best.