January 9

Yep, the boys are holding what you think they're holding.

They took their school district-provided COVID tests this morning and both came up positive. So no school for them. My dream of a leisurely birthday morning at the Mother Ship and dinner out in two days won't come true. (Abby's test, for the record, was negative. She must have ninja immunity. Or she already had it and we didn't know. Or she's proof that vaccination can work well. I guess the truth there --whatever it is-- doesn't matter much.) 

Anyhow, after the extraction process was complete I stood there at the kitchen island watching the samples slide across the windows. I broke into a hysterical fit of laughter as Brady's test line immediately appeared and turned a dark, dark shade of red. And then I looked over at Isaac's test and although his line was much lighter, it too was definitely there. Because, you know, after the couple of weeks we've had, it just figures.

But ironically, oddly, strangely, I'm not mad. Annoyed? A little. Frustrated? Sure. But mad? Nope. Because it's all so utterly ridiculous that I can't be mad. I can only laugh. And, truthfully, I can drink my glass of prosecco and watch TV and crochet. 

Life is like this sometimes. God knows this is ridiculous, and my guess is that He's glad that I'm not upset. Pleased, I hope. I know He has good things in store for us, and that this is a rocky patch. But I'm still thankful for what was and what is and what's to come. And on days like this one... after weeks like the ones we've had... the act of having hope in the midst of lousy circumstances has to be good enough.