If it can go wrong, it does

It's Sunday afternoon and we've been discharged from the hospital for a week. I have our cart all packed up with, well, an exorbitant amount of belongings (I'll need to pare down for next week). I wheel the 50 pound bugger down to the parking garage, find the car, and load her up. All stuff neatly stacked in and ready to roll. What?! The trunk won't shut? Are you kidding me? So -5 degrees is too cold to get the stupid temperamental latch to connect to the trunk? Come on! It was at this point I just lost it. I've been in a hospital for a month and completely unprepared for this ridiculous cold weather. I'm standing in front of the trunk screaming at the roof and crying with frozen hands and frozen little toes in my plastic flats, "seriously, I just want to go home! Why does it have to be so hard?" People walk by, shielding their eyes from the lunatic screaming at a car. Security then shows up. Either he's here to help or escort the crazy crying lady out of the hospital garage. It's always the little things that set me off. It's not the cancer or chemotherapy or being away from family for weeks at a time or living in a hospital that break me down. It's the little things that I expect and rely on going smoothly while everything else around me is chaotic. 

Needless to say, things eventually worked out. A few laughs later, tears wiped away, and a little wd-40, the trunk latched and Pia and I turned on our heat full blast and made our way back to Lincoln. And hopefully in a day or two our family can be together when the guys recover from the stomach flu. Seriously, when it rains, it pours in our house. Ha. We spend a lot of time laughing. No point in whining or complaining or crying like a crazed lunatic (all the time). ;)

Love and miss you, JD and Max!

Grateful for security cameras that spot crazed crying moms,

Kate