We're home after a super-extra-exhaustifying weekend in Pennsylvania. My mom is doing extremely well, considering.
We'll get biopsy results on Wednesday. Then we shall all breathe a big fat collective sigh of relief, because I think everything is going to be FINE.
(YOU HEAR THAT UNIVERSE? FINE. FIIIIINE. HOP TO IT.)
Right now, I must go sleep for a few dozen hundred hours, because the child, the gorgeous golden child light of our lives, did not sleep all weekend. AT ALL. NO SLEEP. He screamed instead. He screamed for so many hours that Jason and I were sent back in time to those horrific first days home with a newborn when we sang lullabies with the words baby baby baby why won't you fucking sleep already and then we walked into walls during the day in desperate hope of knocking ourselves into a nice blissful coma.
Also: Do not permit your in-laws to buy your child this toy. DO. NOT. Walls will not be enough. You will soon contemplate sticking the silverware into your ears.
Anyway. We're home. We're tired. But...honestly...
Even when it's bad, it's never that bad, you know?