We made it. The project was turned in. The luncheon went well. All the major catastrophies dealt with. My house looks like a bomb went off, but we made it.
I got home late from work (and by late I mean 4pm). I was exhausted and in a funk.
Considering David's cold and Isaac's allergies, I convinced David to not go on the Father-Son-Campout. Off they went to see Shrek, a little annoyed that I wasn't going.
I ended up (after watching Pretty in Pink) spending the evening with a bunch of women in the ward, half I didn't know beyond their first name, the other half I met tonight. We played some board games (one was Apples to Apples, which I hate), snacked, and got to know each other, partly with the help of Truth or Dare Jenga, and, like all women together for the first or second time, shared our labor and delivery stories.
What is it about gathering together as women that is so uplifting? Is it the surge of estrogen? Is it a built-in sisterhood?
Whatever it is, the magic worked, and I'm ready to move on.
PS Unfortunately as women we can also have the opposite effect when we're gathered as a group, but that's another can of catfight.
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