Around 4 is when I start remembering stuff into adulthood, so now willow is 4? The pressure to really be a good parent is ON.

But sometimes being a good-ish parent means being the bad guy, or not reacting how Willow wants me to ("yeah ok. You say your friend punched you? Well he says you pinched him first. He should have told you to not pinch rather than punch you, but you shouldn't be pinching people in the first place.") and sometimes... I'm just not up to it. (example: I've been in bed sick since Thursday. Not out of luxury, but because I have been so sick. All I've been able to do is crawl to the bathroom to benefit from a hot steamy shower, and vomit into the toilet. There is also a lot of Gatorade drinking, nose blowing, and sleeping. M has also been sick, although not as drastically as me. He's also on night shift. It means most nights Willow's been all "but WHO is going to read me a bedtime story?" the answer has been a raspy "we really love you, but I'm on deaths door right now, so uh... Raincheck?" ) its not really fair on Willow.

Then again, in my more sour moments, I figure she got sick first and passed it onto me. So this is a good lesson in COVER YOUR MOUTH AND DON'T COUGH ON OTHER PEOPLE, yes?

Did I mention we are moving? Oh yes. We have begun the prep work of moving. Things are in labelled boxes and taped up. We have a very special day happening on Wednesday. My parents arrive Thursday. Willow is excited to see people who aren't bedridden. We are also out of bread, which is a shame since "bread" was the corner stone of dinner tonight and Willow's lunch tomorrow. So, time to get in the kitchen and make bread. Because life goes on, doesn't it?